Day of Silence
by broadwaypants
Summary: After Kurt explains to Mr. Schue that he will be participating in Day of Silence, Schue decides to get the whole club in on it. One chapter for each character, detailing what happened during their day and how it affected them.
1. Intro

It had been an annual tradition for Kurt Hummel since the seventh grade.

Every April, one day was chosen to be Day of Silence, an event that people all over participated in. Those choosing to participate wouldn't speak for a day to promote awareness for those whose voices weren't heard because of their sexuality. It was something Kurt felt very strongly about, since he himself had been on the receiving end of numerous taunts, pranks, and other types of abuse because he was gay.

But Day of Silence was going to be a bit of an issue this year. They had Glee practice that day and, somehow, he had landed a solo. Regionals was so close and Mr. Schue (and Rachel) were stressing the importance of practicing every chance they got, of making sure their voices were in top condition, of making every Glee practice count. How was he supposed to tell them that he couldn't talk or sing for one of their most important practices all year?

Well, tell Schue before Rachel, that was certain.

And probably tell him during Spanish class, not Glee practice. He would be less focused on what exactly a day of silence would mean in relation to Glee, right?

So two days before the actual Day of Silence, Kurt went up to Mr. Schue's desk after class, asking for a quick word.

"Sure Kurt," Mr Schue perched himself on the front of his desk, Kurt standing in front of him. "What's up?"

"Well, Mr. Schue, I don't know if you're aware, but two days from today is the annual Day of Silence," Kurt began his practiced speech, "and because this is a cause that I've always cared about, I participate every year. So I just wanted to give you the heads up." He ended there hopefully, rocking on the balls of his feet.

"Day of Silence," Mr. Schue repeated, a finger on his lips as he thought about it. "Yeah, I remember a couple kids doing that last year." He looked up, making eye contact with Kurt. The boy noticed Schue's eyes were concerned. "Didn't they end up getting crude sharpie drawings all over their faces?"

"I don't care to call to remembrance what was written and drawn all over my face," Kurt's expression darkened. "And I am not changing my mind because a bunch of immature gorillas can't accept the fact that I am happy being who I am."

"No, no," Mr. Schue was waving his hands. "I didn't mean to discourage you. In fact, I think it's great that you're so willing to do this. It takes a strong person to stand up in front of people and stick up for what they believe in, especially this issue here in Lima." Kurt's chest swelled at his teacher's praise.

"In fact, I'm going to get the whole club in on it."

Kurt did a double take.

"Excuse me?"

"I think this is something they'll care about," Mr. Schue's eyes were gleaming just like they did when he handed them new sheet music. This couldn't be good. "Some more than others, but it would be a great experience for them to learn about what some people have to go through. It'll be just like that time they were all in wheelchairs."

Great, so apparently being gay was the same as being in a wheelchair. But then again, this was Mr. Schue, and he wasn't exactly the brightest bulb in the package.

"I'll tell them all about it in practice later today."

Kurt was suddenly dreading Glee practice. Puck was definitely going to throw him in the dumpster for this one. And Rachel was going to have a fit.

He couldn't have been more wrong.

Okay, admittedly Puck did look like he wanted to punch the shit out of him, but at least he didn't do anything. Rachel, it turned out, was so into it that she had pre-ordered fake tattoos from the NOH8 website with her dads weeks ago, specifically for the Day of Silence. The rest of the club had been reluctant at first, but when Mr. Schue explained things (horribly) and Kurt interrupted him, stood up, and gave the club a detailed description of what he had been dealing with since elementary school, they changed their minds. Even Puck refrained from saying something nasty, which was saying something.

It would be interesting to see which members actually stayed silent the entire day.


	2. Artie

Artie forgot about Day of Silence at first.

But, come on, it was 6 in the morning and nobody thinks about anything important that early. Well, Rachel probably does, but she's Rachel frickkin Berry. She's always thinking about something.

So Artie got himself up and went about his business, humming their latest Glee numbers and complimenting his reflection in the mirror as he got ready for school. He debated with himself over whether to wear a sweater or a sweater-vest (the sweater-vest won, of course). He only remembered that he wasn't supposed to be talking when he wheeled himself into the kitchen and said hello to his mom.

"Oh, crap," immediately followed. He would have covered his mouth, but he needed his hands to move, so that wasn't an option.

"What's wrong?" Mrs. Abrams asked immediately.

Artie made a noise of annoyance, reaching around to the back of his chair to get to his backpack. He pulled out his notebook and scribbled down the briefest explanation possible, handing it over to his mom with a passive smile on his face.

"Oh," Mrs. Abrams' brow creased. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Artie nodded.

"Okay, then." She didn't sound convinced. Artie himself wasn't convinced. He had seen the sort of things that had happened to Kurt in the past, and he himself had been on the receiving end of quite a bit of bullying because of his chosen circle of friends and because of the chair. But they'd be going through it together as a group this year, right? There would be thirteen of them. Strength in numbers and all that.

The silent breakfast and drive to school was a little unnerving, though.

For the first time in his life, Artie was actually glad the handicapped ramp was at the far end of the school. He saw almost nobody on his daily trip from there to his locker. And besides, he was Artie Abrams, the wheelchair kid, and nobody paid him any attention unless they wanted to pick on him.

Please don't pick on me, please don't pick on me, please don't pick on me...

And nobody did.

His usually quiet trip was completely silent except for the sound of his wheels turning. The chatter around him died down to a low rumble. His locker opened with a click that startled him, and the zipper on his backpack was unusually loud, but apart from that, he barely noticed the whole not talking thing. Usually Tina came over to say hello, but when Artie looked around, he didn't see her. In fact, nobody from Glee was around. He figured they had all gone about their business and went to class, since they couldn't stop to chat.

That was exactly what he himself did. Gathered up his things and went to class. And go figure, he was early. For once.

Well that was good. That meant he could show his teacher the same note he had shown his mom so she would know not to call on him.

That strategy seemed to work perfectly and nobody noticed when Artie didn't say anything. His teacher didn't call on him and it seemed to be lecture day in most of his classes anyway. This was easy.

Well, until math class.

Stupid, fucking math class and stupid Mr. fucking Peterson.

He had math class with Mercedes, so they went up to his desk together and showed him Mercedes' note about the Day of Silence (hers was more legible). He didn't really say anything, just grunted and nodded. They both supposed that meant he was okay with it, so they took their usual seats near the back of the classroom and settled in for another silent 43 minutes.

But then stupid Mr. fucking Peterson decided that today was going to be the perfect day to have them go over the homework. Out loud. At the blackboard. Which meant he was calling on people at random, giving them a number, and having them go up to the board and copying down what they'd done the night before and explaining it to the class.

Normally Artie wouldn't have cared. He was good at math and he liked it, no matter what his feelings towards stupid Mr. fucking Peterson were. He even liked going up to the board, because it was just low enough that he could reach it.

He swore there was a smirk on stupid Mr. fucking Peterson's face when his raspy voice said, "Abrams, number 16."

Artie didn't move. He looked over at Mercedes, whose expression was a mix of surprise and disgust. They made eye contact for a second, shrugging at each other, and Artie grabbed his homework and wheeled up to the front of the class. He copied out his problem all at once, rather than stopping to explain it, hoping that stupid Mr. fucking Peterson had just made a mistake and would remember once he noticed that Artie wasn't speaking.

Nope, stupid Mr. fucking Peterson was about to live up to his nickname.

"Abrams!"

Artie had left the board and was wheeling back to his seat when the teacher's voice boomed at him. He turned, fixing an almost expressionless stare on the teacher, keyword there being almost.

"I believe you have neglected to explain the problem to us."

Artie frowned at the man, unwilling to believe that this was an accident. Maybe if he stared long enough, stupid Mr. fucking Peterson would prove to him that he was wrong, that he had forgotten.

Ten seconds. Then fifteen. Then thirty. Artie could feel the entire classroom squirming behind him.

"Abrams, you explain the problem right now or I'm sending you to Figgins."

Artie shrugged noncommittally.

"I'm guessing that's a no?"

Artie just stared at him.

Stupid Mr. fucking Peterson came out from behind his desk, wheeling himself on his roll-y chair and looking so smug that Artie knew it wasn't an accident. It wasn't possible for a teacher to be more insensitive than this man was being right now. First the problem, and now coming out on a roll-y office chair as if it was some kind of joke. Fantastic.

The teacher stopped when he was mere inches from Artie, leaning in close and saying just loud enough that the first row of students could hear, "I thought you were a smart kid, Abrams. But go right ahead and ruin everything you've been given so the fairies can corrupt the rest of us. Your choice kid, not mine."

Artie knew that stupid Mr. fucking Peterson wanted to say more than that. He could feel it in the way the man wheeled himself back, the way he didn't seem pleased enough. But Artie was done here. He wheeled back to his seat, glaring at anyone who dared to look at him funny, grabbing his books and setting them in his lap before leaving the room. Stupid Mr. fucking Peterson called after him, "Figgins, Abrams. I'll catch up."

Artie could have just left school then and there. He could have gone to Schue's classroom and pleaded with the man to help him out. He could have hid out in the choir room until Glee practice. Hell, he could have hid out in the handicapped bathroom stall if he really wanted to. But he was Artie Abrams, and nobody intimidates Artie Abrams.

On his trip to Figgins' office, he remembered how the rest of the club agreed - reluctantly - to stay in wheelchairs. He knew it had been hard on every single one of them, but they did it anyway, and not just because Schue told them to.

After that experience, Kurt had singled him out, come over and asked to see his arms. A little taken aback, Artie had offered his right arm hesitantly. Kurt had grabbed it, instructing, "Flex." So Artie did, and Kurt had given one of those little gasps that was halfway between 'I knew it' and 'no freaking way.'

"You're so buff," Kurt had said, his voice also halfway between a compliment and a statement. Artie had grinned, then laughed when Kurt had told him he should arm wrestle Puck sometime, because, "you'd totally win."

The chair had shown Kurt something new about Artie, and this experience was now showing Artie something new about Kurt. Did he and Kurt even have the same math teacher? He had never actually asked. But he could only imagine how tough it would be for Kurt to be stuck in that class, stuck with a teacher who hated him for the stupidest reason in the book.

When he reached Figgins' office, he was only slightly surprised to see Rachel sitting there, determined look on her face and duct tape across her mouth. Her eyes flashed angrily when she turned to see who had entered, then softened immediately when she saw him.

He allowed himself to bask in the silent-Rachel-Berry-ness for only a split second.

Artie wheeled himself over to her side, looking up at a very distraught looking Figgins with a passive expression.

"You too?" Figgins didn't look surprised, but he certainly had the air of someone who had been dealing with the same thing too much in one day. "You two make five," he informed them. "And as I have told the four previous teachers, you are doing nothing wrong. Regardless of our personal stance on the matter, we cannot do a thing about it. I'm sorry, children."

Artie and Rachel exchanged an almost amused look. This was probably the only time Figgins would ever be apologizing to them.

He couldn't stop his exasperated sigh, though, when stupid Mr. fucking Peterson came into the room, already raging before he had even opened the door. Figgins paled and Artie couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. Rachel was trembling, Artie supposed because she didn't have her mouth to defend her from the man's anger.

So he did the only logical thing: he reached over and held Rachel's hand tightly while they listened to stupid Mr. fucking Peterson yell._  
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	3. Brittany

_Ho-lee-crap-ton, guys. This story is on 42 alert lists. That's kind of ridiculous. I wasn't expecting that at all. But (I know, I know, don't bite the hand that feeds you) I'd really appreciate some feedback. Because reviews are where it's at. (Please?)_

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Brittany knew she wasn't supposed to talk today. She knew it was something all the Glee kids were doing together, but she wasn't entirely sure why they were doing it.

But one thing was for sure: it made Cheerios practice a lot more difficult.

She wasn't lead cheerleader or anything, so her voice just melted into the background. But Coach Sylvester noticed everything. Like, legitly, every single little thing. One time Brittany's foot had landed just the tiniest bit crooked, and the next thing she knew, Coach Sylvester was in her face yelling at her for it.

They were going over their basic routines today, which meant it was just the girls, no Kurt. They saved him for some of their special numbers, the ones where Coach Sylvester had him sing something. Brittany liked practice better when Kurt was there. He was nice and always smiled at her. He was a pretty good kisser too, even though he was gay.

Oh yeah, that's why they weren't talking today. Because Kurt was gay. Or something like that. So it was probably a good thing that Kurt didn't have to be at practice today.

But she and Santana were there, and it didn't take long for Coach Sylvester to realize neither of them were chiming in with the cheers.

"Care to explain to me why you girls are suddenly above the vocal part of our routines?" Coach had her hands on her hips, obviously annoyed. Annoyed normally went straight to anger when she didn't get her way, so Brittany decided she should probably start talking.

"We're not supposed to talk today," her voice was quiet, so it didn't count, right? If she talked quietly enough, it wouldn't count.

"Is this one of Schuester's stupid ideas to make you lousy excuse of a glee club sound better at your competition?"

Brittany could see Coach Sylvester's eyes glinting angrily. She always got that look on her face when she was mad at Mr. Schue.

"No, we're not talking because gay people can't talk," Brittany explained, still softly. "But... Kurt can talk. So maybe he's not really gay. Just pretending."

"Sneaky gays," Coach Sylvester's eyebrows furrowed. She was angry now. "Those sneaky gays are putting it into your pretty heads that they deserve the same rights as everyone else, aren't they? Well I'll tell you something. Until I can tell from a ten-mile radius who's gay and who's not, why should we care? If they're going to hide who they are and won't be open about it, then they don't deserve to take away my right to deny them those rights." She shook her head. "Sneaky, sneaky gays, trying to corrupt my Cheerios."

Brittany didn't really understand all of what Coach Sylvester just said, so she looked over at Santana. The other girl normally told her what to do when this happened. But Santana looked just as angry at Coach Sylvester, which made Brittany worried. Why was Santana angry?

"So," there was a note of finality in Coach's voice, "you two will get back onto the field and you will join in on the vocal part of the routine."

"Okay," Brittany didn't see what the problem was with that.

"Brittany, shut up," Santana said suddenly. Brittany looked over at her again, noticing that she didn't look as angry anymore. Santana was smiling and she reached out to hold Brittany's hand, which made Brittany smile. She liked it when Santana was happy.

Then Santana kissed her, right on the lips, in front of Coach Sylvester and the Cheerios. And Brittany was confused. Last time she'd tried to do that, Santana had told her not to. They couldn't kiss each other in front of Coach Sylvester, she'd said. A small frown crossed Brittany's face, but Santana was smiling and she wasn't angry anymore, so Brittany smiled again.

The two linked pinkies and Santana skipped out of the gym, pulling a grinning Brittany behind her._  
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	4. Finn

_So guys, this chapter is huge. Like, gigantic. Also, it's crazy depressing. So if you can't handle sexual harassment, you may not want to read it. Just a warning. Also, y'all should review so I know if this turn for the angst is any good. (Next part will be fluffy, though, so don't get too used to it.)  
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Finn talked about Day of Silence with his mom the day before.

It wasn't because he wanted her to talk him out of it or anything - not that she would - he just liked talking about important stuff with his mom. Admittedly he hadn't gone to her right away about Quinn and the baby, but that was different. He hadn't known what to do about anything then.

So the two of them sat down and talked it all over. Kurt was practically family, the two of them agreed, and Finn wanted to do everything he could to support his new brother. His mom had liked that, he could tell, and she told him she was proud. That made him smile. He loved making his mom proud.

"You do know the rest of the basketball team will give you a load of crap about this, right?" His mom gave him a reality check, having heard all about the stupid pranks those idiots liked to pull.

"Yeah," Finn shrugged it away. "Can't be worse than what they've done before, though. I'm good." He could deal with paintball guns. He could deal with a defaced yearbook picture. He could deal with the rest of the school not thinking of him as the star anymore. His friends were worth that much, and family was worth even more. Kurt was both, so he was extra-special.

But Finn was still a little bit fidgety when he arrived at school the next morning. He caught a glimpse of Rachel pressing a washcloth to Jesse's cheek in the hallway and panicked, doing a double take and staring openly at them. Sure, Jesse was a glee kid like them which meant he was game for a slushie in the face, but Jesse had the cool factor on his side. People liked him, so nobody messed with him. But had someone really beaten him up, and this early in the morning?

Oh. Rachel removed the washcloth and Finn saw a white square sticking to Jesse's cheek. That's right, Rachel had said something about getting fake tattoos for today. She had one on her cheek already, he noticed.

While he was definitely relieved that Jesse was not hurt, Finn still couldn't shake his uneasiness. He passed Mercedes on his way to first period, and they greeted each other with a strained smile and a nod, nothing like their usual very vocal greetings.

Finn usually didn't talk during class and by now his teachers knew not to call on him. He usually didn't know the answer and would either gape up at them until they called on someone else or he would make up an answer. Making up the answer only worked in math class, though, because it was the only class where there wasn't a definite answer. Today was no different. Finn sat in class and pretended to pay attention and didn't talk and didn't get called on.

Then he got to Spanish class.

Mr Schue was doing the Day of Silence with them, and Finn wasn't sure how this was going to work. Mr. Schue taught Spanish, which meant he usually spent the entire class teaching them how to pronounce their new vocabulary words correctly and listening to them parrot the words back. But today Mr. Schue was sitting behind his desk rather than standing at the front of the room. He was smiling, though, so obviously things weren't going too badly.

Normally when they had a substitute, Mr. Schue would leave a video for them to watch. Nobody would pay attention to it; they would text under the desks instead. Finn figured that something like that was going to happen today, but then Mr. Schue was standing at the front of the room motioning for quiet. He pointed to the board, and Finn noticed that the entire chalkboard was covered in both English and Spanish words. So he began reading.

_You may notice that some people, including myself, are not speaking today, so on the board is your assignment. Translate the following paragraph and turn it in when you are done. You may talk quietly amongst yourselves when you have finished the assignment._

Crap. Finn sucked at this kind of thing. But he dutifully pulled out his Spanish book, resigning himself to having to flip through the Spanish/English dictionary for the remainder of the class. Most of his classmates had pulled out their books as well, but Finn noticed that Quinn and Kurt were both scribbling away, obviously both knowing enough Spanish to translate on their own.

It was weird, being in the same classroom as Mr. Schue and not hearing him talking. The classroom was silent, which meant that everyone wanted to get this assignment over with, and Finn didn't hear anyone texting. It was weird. Normally Mr. Schue's classroom was lively and fun, but today it was just dead.

But soon enough people were finishing and the low buzz of conversation filled the classroom. Finn tried to concentrate on the words in front of him, tried to remember which verb ending meant what, but he was distracted when his pocket started vibrating.

He tugged his phone out of his pocked while he looked around the room, trying to see if someone in here had just texted him. He couldn't tell if Quinn or Kurt had their phones out, but he knew both were done with the assignment. But they probably weren't texting him. They weren't the type to interrupt him if he was still working. It was probably Puck being stupid.

But when he flipped his phone open, he saw Kurt's name. Frowning, he pressed the button to accept the text and was bombarded with a giant message. That was weird. But as he read through it and realized it wasn't Kurt saying hi or asking him a question, he started to notice similarities between what the text said and what he had written on his paper.

Oh, duh. Kurt had just texted him the English translation of the paragraph. Finn wasn't sure why Kurt of all people had just done that - the other boy hated cheating - but he was grateful. Finn glanced over at him, grinning and receiving a small smile and a wink in return. He copied down what the text said, realizing that Mr. Schue had translated an explanation of what Day of Silence is. That made sense.

He still pretended to flip through his book as he wrote - he wasn't that stupid - but he still finished not long after. And what was he supposed to do now? He couldn't talk to anyone and Quinn and Kurt didn't sit next to him anyway. So Finn let his eyes wander around the room, pretending to be interested in the posters on the wall.

That got boring really fast, so Finn started eavesdropping on the girl sitting to his right.

"I didn't know Mr. Schue was into this sort of thing," the girl was saying. The girl sitting next to her nodded in agreement, adding, "I'm surprised Figgins gave him the okay."

Finn looked down at his paper, reading over the translation again. He could understand that it was surprising to some people that Mr. Schue would do this. He himself probably would have been shocked if he hadn't known about it. But it was for a good cause and it comforted him to know that the girls continued their conversation, saying how brave it was to do something like that in Lima. His chest swelled slightly, knowing that these girls thought what they were doing was brave.

But then he heard what the boy to his left was saying.

"Didn't know our Spanish teacher was a fag."

Finn's eyes darkened and locked onto the boy speaking. He didn't know who exactly the other was, but he instantly decided that he didn't like him.

"I know, who'd have thought?" another boy answered. "Everyone knows he left his wife, but I guess now we all know why."

"That's disgusting."

"He shouldn't be allowed to teach here."

"People like him are the reason kids shouldn't get close to their teachers. Did you know there was a rumor he was snooping in the showers earlier this year?"

"I bet he'd get fired for that if Figgins knew."

"We should go talk to him. I don't want to learn from a fag who's probably checking out my ass every time I walk into the room."

Finn knew he shouldn't let what those guys were saying get to him. They didn't know what they were talking about and they were just trying to flatter themselves in some sick, twisted way. Being gay didn't mean you took advantage of kids. Everyone with a brain knew that. And who cares why Mr. Schue left his wife? If it made him happier, then nobody should think twice about it.

But try though he might to calm himself down, Finn was still pissed. Nobody talked about Mr. Schue like that while he was around. Mr. Schue had stuck up for him and helped him when he didn't know where else to go, and not to mention he was a great teacher. So Finn stood up, walked in front of the first guy's desk, and punched him square in the nose.

He never got to punch the other guy, though, because almost instantly a pair of hands grabbed his arm and turned him around, forced him away from the other boy, and suddenly Finn wanted to shrink down into the floor, because it was Mr. Schue and he looked disappointed. Finn hated that look and he almost started speaking just to Mr. Schue could know why he had done it, but then he remembered he wasn't supposed to talk.

Mr. Schue led Finn up to the front of the room, only letting go of his arm when he had put several feet and a row of desks between Finn and the other boy. Then he sat down and started to write a note. Finn could feel the entire class staring at him and could hear the boy he had punched yelling something, but he didn't turn around to look and Mr. Schue didn't stop writing.

After he finished writing the note, he handed it to Finn, who saw that it was addressed to Principal Figgins. His stomach flipped and he looked at Mr. Schue again, making eye contact with the man and begging him to understand. He could see an apology in Mr. Schue's eyes, could tell that he knew Finn wouldn't have done it without a reason. That was good enough, so Finn left the room and headed for Figgins' office.

As soon as Figgins looked up and saw just who had entered his room, he let out a groan.

"Not you too," the older man looked so miserable that Finn wanted to say something to make him feel better, to tell him how sorry he was. "I just finished talking with Miss Berry and Mr. Abrams."

Wait, Rachel and Artie had gotten into trouble? Finn wanted to ask why, but he bit his tongue, holding out the note and sitting down opposite his principal. He fidgeted while Figgins read the note. It felt weird not being able to speak in his defense.

"This note says you punched another boy in class," Figgins said sternly. "In Mr. Schuester's class, no less. I understand that the lot of you glee kids aren't talking today, but I am going to need an explanation." There was a pause, and Finn wondered if he was going to have to talk to get himself out of trouble. But then Figgins flipped Mr. Schue's note over and pushed it towards him, choosing a pen and handing it to him as well. "Just write down what happened and we'll deal with this tomorrow."

Finn's meeting with Figgins was short and painless and he was feeling pretty good for someone who had just been sent to the principal's office by his favorite teacher. He knew the school would probably call his mom and that he'd have to go back tomorrow and probably get detention at some point, but it felt good not having to talk. He was grinning on his walk back to Spanish class and, when the bell rang on the way, made sure to smile at Kurt when the other boy passed him in the hallway. He ducked into Mr. Schue's room quickly to grab his backpack and then walked off to his next class as if nothing had happened.

He hadn't counted on the guy he had punched wanting to get back at him.

Finn had managed to almost forget about Spanish class by the time lunch came around, and he was making his way to the cafeteria when two guys that used to play football with him came over to him. One put an arm around his shoulders and started steering him in the other direction. Finn made to shrug him off, but the other guys said, "Not today, Hudson. We want to talk to you."

Finn doubted very much that the two guys wanted to talk, but there really wasn't much he could do to shake them off. They were both shorter than him, but he knew from football practice that both of them knew how to tackle and how to make it really hurt if they wanted to. So he walked with them, hoping that whatever was about to happen would be over with quickly and wouldn't hurt.

It was pretty stupid of him not to at least try to take on the two of them out in the hallway where someone probably would have found them, because he was being ushered into the locker rooms and about half of the football team was waiting for him. The guy he had punched was there too. It made Finn feel a little better to see that his nose was all sorts of shades of purple.

"So, Hudson, you and the rest of homo-explosion aren't talking today."

He had wondered when Karofsky was going to show up, and speak of the devil, here he was. On any ordinary day he would have yelled at the other to can it, to leave him alone, but he held back. He was supposed to be silent. He was doing this for family.

"Why is that, huh?" Karofsky took a couple steps closer and Finn was reminded that he still had those two other guys on either side of him. "Is it because your little group of fags somehow got it into their heads that you're special? Because nobody punches my brother and gets away with it."

Shit, that guy was Karofsky's brother? Finn's face paled. He hadn't even known Karofsky had a brother. But then again, the two of them had always butted heads and had never had a normal conversation, so it wasn't surprising that Finn didn't know that.

"Have at it," was all Karofsky said, then the two guys on either side of Finn grabbed hold of his arms, pulling him back against the wall, and Karofsky's brother was grinning and walking towards him so slowly that Finn wanted to yell at him to just punch him and be done with it.

"You know, I'm not entirely sure why you punched me in the first place, Hudson."

Oh, so they were going to do it this way. He was going to talk first, try to get under his skin, then beat him up. Perfect.

"I didn't even say anything to upset you." There was an oh-so-obviously fake sigh, then he continued. "Ah well, I suppose all secrets have to come out eventually, and you getting pissed because I figured out yours is completely understandable."

Wait... what?

"So why did you really join the stupid glee club? Was it really because you like to sing or was it because you're a fag just like Schuester?" Karofsky's brother lowered his voice, and Finn could feel everyone in the locker room leaning in closer so they could hear better. "Tell me, Hudson, are you the top or the bottom?"

Finn closed his eyes when he saw that, finally, he was about to get hit. A fist collided with his jaw and it took every ounce of self-control he had to not shout in pain. And then there was laughter and he opened his eyes just in time to watch the fist hit him again.

"He's the bottom!" Karofsky shouted from across the room. "A real man wouldn't close his eyes and just take it. Is this what you look like when Schuester's fucking you?"

Finn started pulling against the two idiots that were holding him against the wall. He wanted to rip Karofsky's face off and then shove it into his brother's mouth. He wanted to make sure that every single person in this entire locker room wouldn't leave until he had gotten in a good blow. This was humiliating. None of it was true, but it still hurt.

"Oh no, I think this is what he looks like!"

There was more laughter. If looks could kill, every person in the locker room would be dead by now.

"Come on, Hudson, just tell us if you're the top or the bottom," one of the other boys was saying in a sickly-sweet voice. "That's all we want to know. Just tell us and we'll forget this ever happened."

No. There was no way these bastards were going to get a single word out of him. That was what they wanted, wasn't it? They wanted to get him to talk, to make him so angry that he would forget why he was staying silent. It wasn't going to happen. Finn grit his teeth and started them down, telling them wordlessly that there was absolutely no way he was going to let them win.

"He's not gonna tell us," someone else said, shaking his head. "He's probably too embarrassed that we found out about him."

"Oh, he doesn't have to tell us," Karofsky was walking towards him again, and the menace in his face raised goosebumps all over Finn's arms. He could feel the back of his neck prickling and he knew that he did not, under any circumstances, want Karofsky to keep talking.

"Why don't we just look for ourselves?"

Oh shit. Oh shit shit _shit_. He tried to pull out of the two guy's grasp again.

"Come on, Hudson, you like this," Karofsky was taunting him, the wicked smile on his face making Finn wonder how they were ever teammates in the first place. "You know you do." And then Karofsky reached out, grabbing hold of the waistband of Finn's pants. Finn turned his face away, having no idea what Karofsky was going to do to him, but he knew that he didn't want to watch. He pulled against the other two again, but they just held on tighter, pressing his arms against the wall so tight that he couldn't feel his fingers.

He wondered if they had ever done this to Kurt. Had the smaller boy, who was so easy to grab hold of, been pushed roughly up against the wall and had to listen to taunts like this? Had Karofsky - or someone else, it didn't matter who - ever played with the button on Kurt's pants, unzipping the zipper so slowly that the noise was deafening?

"Flip him around," Karofsky told the two holding him, and Finn panicked. He wasn't stupid. He knew that boys could get raped too and he knew that these guys in the locker room were certainly angry enough to do it. But... they wouldn't. Right? He closed his eyes, feeling another two sets of hands close around his arms, feeling them turn him roughly and slam him back into the wall. His cheek was pressed against the cool tile and he could still feel Karofsky's hands right where he didn't want them.

"Moment of truth, Hudson," he could feel Karofsky breathing in his ear. "You gonna fess up to what Schuester's been shoving up your ass, or are we gonna have to look and see for ourselves?"

Every part of Finn was screaming for him to just tell them something, anything to get these bastards off of him. Anything to make Karofsky let him go. But Finn just swallowed loudly, breathing rough and ragged, biting his tongue so hard that he swore he tasted blood.

He could hear the clock ticking somewhere in the locker room, its sound swallowing him and making him aware of just how long a second could be.

The cold air was biting when Karofsky pulled his pants down, boxers following to leave his naked form for everyone to see. Finn squeezed his eyes shut so tight that no light could get in, so tight that had he not been painfully aware of his surroundings, he could have been anywhere. He tensed, waiting, wondering what they were going to do to him.

The clock still ticked. The hands on his arms were still tight. The air brushing over skin that it should never touch was prickling and biting.

But nothing happened.

He started counting along with the clock.

He found himself wishing for the second time that if they were going to do something, they would just do it and get it over with.

Still, nothing.

His arms were released and he heard heavy footsteps for the door. His arms fell, numb, to his sides and he turned back around, pants tangled at his ankles and causing him to fall over. His chin hit the corner of one of the benches and he tasted blood, but there was nobody there. They had all left.

Finn flexed his fingers, regaining the feeling in his limbs, and slowly picked himself up off the ground. As soon as he had enough feeling in his fingers, he pulled his pants up, hiding himself from view. The warmth of his boxers had never felt more welcome; his clothes had never felt more like a sanctuary than they did right now.

Finn stopped on his way out to take a long drink of water at the water fountain. He swished the water around in his mouth, spitting it out and then sticking his face in the way of the spout, completely drenching his face and hair.

When he finally came out of the locker room, he didn't know where he was supposed to go. Was it still lunch time? Had he missed any classes? He started for the cafeteria, thinking he should check and see if anyone was still there.

But then Kurt came bursting out of a door to his left, fingers tightening around Finn's arm and eyes spilling over with tears. Finn pulled away automatically, afraid to have someone holding his arm so tightly. But it was just Kurt, a completely disheveled Kurt with tear trails all over his cheeks and his eyes swollen and red. So Finn pulled him unceremoniously into a hug, holding the other boy close, knowing for the first time the sort of hurt that he had been put through.

When Kurt pulled away and took his hand, Finn didn't protest. He let Kurt pull him over to his locker and he didn't try to stop him when he pulled out a tube of Neosporin and dabbed it on his chin. He let Kurt put a yellow band-aid over what had to be a cut.

And if people stared at the pair of them when Finn put an arm around Kurt's shoulders and escorted him to his next class, Finn didn't pay them any attention. He was going to protect Kurt no matter what, even if he couldn't protect himself.


	5. Jesse

_Here, have some fluff to cheer yourself up after that last one._

* * *

Jesse wasn't a bad guy.

He'd been trying to convince the rest of New Directions that he wasn't a bad guy since he first met Rachel in the music store. He knew they had every right not to trust him. He had been Vocal Adrenaline's star, and stars don't give up their power for nothing. They obviously didn't understand what true love was, or they just didn't like Rachel very much.

In hindsight, that probably wasn't the best of cover stories. It made him look like a sleaze ball who wanted to get into Rachel Berry's pants.

So it was no surprise that New Directions didn't take his coming to McKinley lightly. But he liked a challenge, and if that challenge was getting the rest of the club to like him, then so be it. Jesse was always up for a challenge.

He asked Mike to help him fine-tune his dance moves. He found one of the extra wheelchairs and asked Artie to teach him how to pop a wheelie. He let Puck beat him - sometimes - when they armwrestled. He carried Quinn's backpack for her and made sure to snag her an extra piece of cake at lunch. He always made sure to say hi to Finn, who had been looking a little lonely lately. He let Brittany kiss him so she could still have that perfect record she was always talking about. He made Kurt CDs of obscure showtunes. And he was the perfect boyfriend for Rachel.

After a while, he started to do those things automatically. It stopped being a way to earn their trust and turned into who he was. Jesse St. James, the boy who they could count on for anything.

Day of Silence was no different.

Jesse was no stranger to this type of thing. Admittedly he had never participated in Day of Silence before, but he was all for that equality thing and did what he could to show it. A couple of his friends in Vocal Adrenaline were gay, and Jesse made sure they knew that he supported them one hundred percent. He was going to do the same for Kurt, and not just because Mr. Schuester told them to.

Rachel called him up the night before, telling him to wear a white T-shirt to school the next day. She told him that she had a NOH8 tattoo for him and that they should go all out and make it look like they were going to one of those photoshoots. Jesse googled it later because he had no idea what she was talking about.

So he turned up the next day in a white T-shirt and a perfectly scrubbed cheek for his tattoo. Rachel put it on for him in the middle of the hallway, grinning at him in her matching T-shirt and tattoo. Then she pulled out the duct tape.

Jesse almost - keyword almost - said no. Putting duct tape over your mouth hurt. A lot. Rachel probably didn't know that because she'd probably never done it before. So Jesse took the duct tape from her and ripped off a piece, sticking and unsticking it to his jeans until he was satisfied it wasn't going to hurt as much. Then he carefully placed it over Rachel's mouth and ripped a piece off for himself too.

They must have been quite the spectacle, Jesse St. James and Rachel Berry, walking down the hallway with their arms linked in their white T-shirts and duct tape over their mouths. But they were Jesse St. James and Rachel Berry, so they could get away with it.

Eventually they had to go their separate ways. Since Jesse was a senior, he didn't have any classes with any of the New Directions kids. It was a little strange, not having class with his glee club, but he was slowly getting used to it. The senior class of McKinley seemed to like him too, and they accepted him a lot quicker than New Directions had, seeing how none of them even knew who he was.

People were staring, though, but he had expected that. A couple people asked what he was doing, but he just shook his head and sat down in his seat. Word would spread quickly - this was high school, after all - so he knew that before long the questioning stares would turn into disgusted glares. It was selfish and he knew it, but he was going to enjoy the confusion while he could.

Rachel texted him during third period.

_Something happened to Kurt. Meet me in the choir room during free period. We are going to cheer him up._

He kind of loved how Rachel used proper grammar in all her texts. He also more than kind of loved that he had the same free period as Rachel and Kurt. Most of the time they went to the choir room and practiced their songs for glee, sometimes just singing whatever popped into their heads. It was fun and Kurt happily told them more than once that he never felt like a third wheel with them, even though they were "sickeningly adorable."

So Jesse went straight to the choir room, not even bothering to go to his normal classroom. He hoped that nothing serious had happened to Kurt. McKinley was not a very gay-friendly school, and while Carmal hadn't been perfect, it certainly was better.

Kurt was already there when he arrived, and the smaller boy was curled up in one of the chairs. Jesse could tell he had been crying. He went right over to Kurt, putting an arm around him and realized that duct tape sucked when you could only communicate through facial expressions.

Rachel came flying into the room not long after, a notebook tucked under her arm, a camera swinging wildly in one hand, and the roll of duct tape on her other wrist like a bracelet. She passed the notebook to Kurt, and Jesse read over his shoulder.

_We're going to do a NOH8 photoshoot!_

_Oh Rachel, I love your crazy ideas even more than your grammar-correct texts._ Sure, it wasn't going to fix things, but Kurt loved the camera and was a complete ham when he was in a good mood. So this was bound to cheer him up. Rachel tore off a piece of duct tape for Kurt and copied what Jesse had done that morning, sticking and unsticking it to her pants. (Because Rachel was, for once, wearing normal pants.) She handed the tape to Jesse, then bounded over to the table where Mr. Schue kept their sheet music, looking for something.

Jesse put the duct tape over Kurt's mouth, half expecting the other boy to tell him to keep it away from him because it would do something bad to his skin. If Kurt hadn't been so miserable, he probably would have, which reminded Jesse of the reality of the situation. This still wasn't Kurt sitting in front of him, and when Rachel came back with a red and black pen, obviously not having any more of the tattoos, Kurt didn't even flinch when she started to draw on his face.

But the pictures did cheer Kurt up a little. It was weird, taking pictures and not talking while they did it. Normally Rachel would be bossily telling Kurt to tilt his head this way and turn just a little bit that way. But after the first couple pictures Kurt started to loosen up, actually moving to accommodate the camera and not the other way around. And then Rachel gave Jesse a nudge and he went over so he was next to Kurt and Rachel started taking pictures of the two of them.

Jesse was glad he had googled NOH8 the night before, because otherwise he would have had no idea what to do, and that is saying something coming from him. At first he and Kurt didn't really do anything, just kept still while Rachel took their picture, but then Jesse decided to make things a little more fun.

First he went around to he was behind Kurt, putting an arm around him and pulling him close. He was being possessive-Jesse, and on any normal day Rachel would have made a funny comment about being over here and tapping her foot until he came over and hugged her. But today was different. Today Jesse was trying to have fun, trying to get Kurt to act more like Kurt.

After Rachel took a couple pictures of Jesse with an arm around Kurt, he came back out to stand next to the other boy. He turned him gently so they were facing each other, took one of Kurt's hands and lifted it so that his index finger was on his own mouth. Jesse put his finger on Kurt's mouth and he could tell that Kurt was starting to loosen up. Rachel took pictures of the pair of them like that, then Jesse just pulled Kurt into a boyish one-armed hug that was similar to a headlock.

A couple more pictures, then Jesse switched places with Rachel. He took pictures of her and Kurt, egging them on by nodding enthusiastically and smiling underneath his duct tape. After a couple minutes the two were trying to out-diva each other in their posing and Jesse was trying his best not to laugh.

Then Kurt surprised them both by taking the camera and waiting expectantly for them to pose together. So they did, Jesse setting his arms comfortably around Rachel's waist, then turning around and standing back to back, then pressing their duct-tape covered lips together in a faux kiss.

That gave Jesse an idea. He looked Rachel deep in the eyes, wordlessly telling her to trust him. Confusion met his gaze, but she nodded, so he motioned for Kurt to come back over and switch places with Rachel. They did so, both confused, neither one knowing what Jesse was about to do.

He thought it would have been obvious to both of them at this point, but hey, surprises were fun, so he turned so he was facing Kurt, putting an arm around the other's waist and pulling him close, pressing their duct-tape covered lips together in the same faux-kiss he and Rachel had just shared. It was a little weird, because Jesse wasn't interested in Kurt at all and his girlfriend was watching, but it was still nice. It wasn't even a real kiss; it was completely innocent and neither Rachel nor Kurt seemed to have any objections. It was just a pose for the camera.

And if he turned his head a little and took Kurt's hand and made the smaller boy put it on his neck, well, he was just making the pose more genuine._  
_


	6. Matt

_Hey all, I just wanted to let you in on two small details about this story that have nothing to do with the actual story. Wow, that sounded confusing. Anyway..._

_1. I will post a new chapter every other day. I've already written the two chapters after this one and I'm trying to keep on top of things so I don't fall into the usual 'oh crap that's the last chapter I wrote' trap. If there will be a longer gap between posting, I will let you know.  
2. The order of the characters doesn't matter. I'm doing them in alphabetical order by first name, with the exception of Kurt. He's last. So from now on, you'll know who's next._

_Enjoy!_

* * *

Matt wasn't participating in Day of Silence.

He never talked, so going a day without talking wasn't going to make anyone look twice. It was all good for someone like Rachel, who didn't know how to keep her mouth shut most of the time, but for Matt it would just be a normal day.

He liked listening to people and hearing what they had to say, probably a little too much. He never raised his hand in class and only spoke when teachers called on him. Normally people came up and started talking to him, knowing that he wouldn't interrupt them halfway through. That was probably why he had friends. Well, that and football. Normally the quiet kids didn't have any friends.

No, today Matt was going to talk. He was going to speak his mind and not care what people said to him.

And to be honest, he was scared shitless. He never rocked the boat, and this was pretty much the equivalent of the Titanic sinking. No, scratch that, this was pretty much what would have happened if Noah's Ark hadn't been watertight. He was Matt Rutherford, sports star and that-kid-that-never-opened-his-mouth, and he was about to let the whole of McKinley have it.

It was a lot easier than he thought it was going to be.

First he told off Karofsky and his little brother when they were about to dump Jacob Ben Israel into the dumpster. Admittedly it had nothing to do with the purpose of Day of Silence, but it had always bugged him. He had never helped toss anyone in and the times he had been around, he had just looked away and pretended not to notice.

The pair of Karofskys gave him a weird look, but they put Jacob down and left him alone.

Matt spotted Kurt in the hallway and made a beeline for the smaller boy. He wanted Kurt to know that he wasn't not doing Day of Silence, he was just doing it... the opposite way.

"Hey Kurt, I just wanted to let you know that I'm gonna talk today. Not because I don't want to do the Day of Silence thing, because I do, it's just that I never talk at all. Like, ever. So I thought that instead I could start talking."

Kurt didn't say anything. Obviously. But he raised an eyebrow, showing he was intrigued.

"I just told Karofsky not to throw people in the dumpster anymore," Matt continued. "I mean, who knows if he'll actually listen, but it saved Jacob Ben Israel a change of clothes. And I'm gonna say something if people say the Day of Silence is weird or stupid and I'll tell people to lay off if anyone starts messing with you."

Kurt was nodding, obviously liking the sound of having someone who could actually speak on their behalf. Then he smiled and gave Matt the thumbs up.

So Matt went into his first class with a smile on his face and about fifteen different things he'd like to say to fifteen different people in the room. But he held back. No, he wasn't just going to talk to talk. He was going to talk to stand up for the rest of the glee kids who didn't have voices today.

Rachel was in his first period class and, no surprise, she showed up with duct tape over her mouth. While the sight was pretty funny, he didn't laugh. He knew Rachel well enough to know that she never did anything halfway. If she wasn't going to talk, she would make absolutely certain that not a peep would escape her lips.

"Thanks for doing us all a favor, Berry," someone shouted from across the room. Matt watched Rachel's brow furrow, obviously wanting to say something back. So Matt went over to stand next to Rachel, putting an arm around her shoulders and frowning at the person who had spoken.

"Hey, lay off," his voice was gentle, but his expression told the room that he meant business. "Today's Day of Silence. You idiots probably don't know about it, but today people aren't talking because of all the people who didn't have a voice because of their sexuality."

"Rutherford talks!" someone else joked.

"Yeah, I do," Matt retorted. "And I'm sick of being quiet when the rest of you pick on good people for no reason. Rachel's standing up for something she believes in. You all should be impressed. So can it, or I'll make you."

The combined effect of the threat and the shock of him talking shut everyone up. Rachel gave him a grateful look as they took their seats. He smiled back at her.

Matt ended up glaring at anyone who looked at Rachel for the rest of the period, daring them to try him. It was kind of fun.

During the four minutes between first and second period, Matt yelled at Karofsky for trying to stuff Kurt in a locker.

He had second period with Santana and Brittany, who were having a pretty easy time with things so far. Brittany kept whispering to Santana, who would make a shushing motion. Apparently Brittany didn't think it counted if you were quiet enough. Their teacher, who had obviously had someone in glee club the period before, asked if anyone know why some people weren't speaking and Matt answered. Because it was a psychology class and their teacher jumped at any opportunity to talk about anything controversial, they spent the rest of the period talking about homosexuality. Matt talked a lot, contradicting anyone who claimed it was "a mental disorder" or "a disease" or "yicky."

His teacher pulled him aside at the end of class and thanked him for playing the devil's advocate, because it had led to quite the discussion. Matt frowned.

"No," he shook his head. "No, that's not what I was doing at all. I believe everything I said in class today and most of them needed to hear it. You did too, if you're that close-minded." He left after that, ignoring his teacher's stammering.

The rest of the day passed similarly. Matt told off anyone who so much as looked funny at anyone in glee. He explained what was going on to a couple teachers. He got into a heated discussion with another guy on the football team during his free period that almost ended with Matt punching the other guy out. During lunch he sat with the rest of the glee club, yelling comebacks when people taunted them.

And when Kurt realized that Finn was missing and panicked, it was Matt who calmed him down. Kurt and Puck, who normally couldn't so much as look at each other, then sprinted off to find Finn, the same look of worry on both their faces.

Matt had a class with Finn later in the day and he automatically looked around the classroom for the taller boy the second he entered. He spotted Finn, with a yellow band-aid on his chin that definitely had not been there before, sitting in his usual seat. He looked as if someone had taken away every good thing in his life. Matt wanted to ask Finn what was wrong, switch roles back and become the listening ear again, but it was still Day of Silence. Finn was going to keep quiet, he could tell.

He found out what had happened later in the day when he overheard the Karofsky brothers bragging about it.

Matt knew he should tell someone. He should tell Mr. Schuester or Coach Tanaka or Principal Figgins. He should tell Finn that it was okay, that they would make sure nothing like that ever happened again. He should convince Finn that he didn't have to keep quiet, that he should tell them what had happened so they could do something.

But he found Puck and told him instead. Puck slammed a fist into the nearest locker, obviously wanting to spout off a string of curses. But there was still a glint in Puck's eye that told him that this wasn't over. They were going to do something about it and they weren't going to have to talk to do it. _  
_


	7. Mercedes

_So just in case someone actually noticed and is confused, I changed my penname. It was waaaayyyy overdue. So it's still me, I promise! Enjoy!_

* * *

Mercedes was really bad at keeping her mouth shut.

Sometimes she was worse than Rachel. After all, she was the one who told the entire Glee club the truth about Baby Drizzle. And she always made her opinion heard. And sometimes she had this need to be right that would make her and Rachel knock heads.

But Mercedes cared about her friends and if she was going to be silent for a day to show her support for her best friend, then she would do it.

Her day went a lot better than most people's. She wasn't a Cheerio anymore, but she had actually made real friends while on the squad. They still hung out sometimes, so she was still almost-popular by association. Nobody slushied her anymore and Puck was still nice to her, even though they both knew that nothing would ever happen between them. The rest of the school had started to appreciate her sassy-ness, realizing that a lot of the time she was really funny and when they listened to her, they'd probably get at least a smile out of it.

So it went without saying that not many people bothered her. Karofsky and some of his friends gave her dirty looks a couple times and quite a few people whispered behind their hands, obviously not sure what to think of it, but nobody actually did anything to her. After she heard what had happened to Finn, she felt very lucky. Kurt's day probably hadn't gone any better, so when school let out, she went to find him.

They had glee practice, even though they weren't speaking. She wasn't sure if anyone was actually going to show up, so rather than head to the choir room, she went straight to Kurt's locker, hoping to catch him in case he was going to rush home. She wouldn't have blamed him if he had.

After two minutes of standing around, Mercedes went to the choir room, figuring that Kurt was either there or he had left already. And when she scanned the room and noticed the very obvious lack of Kurt Hummel-ness, she decided that he had just gone home.

She was wrong.

Matt came into the room not long after, telling the room, "Kurt's in the nurse's office. Karofsky and his idiot brother -"

Mercedes didn't wait to hear what had happened to him. She left the room, heading straight for the nurse's office. Nobody hurt her boy and got away with it.

So it was a surprise when she found both Karofsky brothers also in the nurse's office, blood on their faces. The younger one's nose was purple and swollen and Mercedes raised an eyebrow. What had happened to them?

She didn't stick around to find out. She went into the second room in the office to find Kurt and Puck sitting on one of those fold-out beds, the nurse dabbing at a cut on Puck's eyebrow. All three looked up when she came in.

"Miss Jones," the nurse didn't seem surprised. "Do me a favor and help Mr. Puckerman clean himself up? I have to help those two idiots out there." The nurse passed her the cloth she had been using to dab at Puck's eyebrow and with a look that told Mercedes she really didn't want to, headed back out into the front room.

Mercedes walked over to Puck and Kurt, eyes wide and looking from one to the other, wishing one of them would tell her what had happened. Obviously that wasn't going to happen, so Mercedes just pulled over the roll-y stool and began dabbing at Puck's eyebrow. It wasn't that bad of a cut, more like a scrape, but it would probably take a while to heal. A spot around his jawline looked slightly swollen too. What on earth had he been doing? Had he tried to take on Karofsky and his brother all by himself?

The nurse's conversation with the Karofsky brothers floated in through the open door.

"You two certainly got a number done on you," she was commenting, obviously examining the pair of them to figure out just what was wrong with them.

"It's that asshole, Puckerman," Karofsky told her and the nurse drew in her breath sharply and made a tutting noise.

"I will not have that sort of language used in my office," her voice was stern.

"But he is!" Karofsky's brother insisted. "He defended that Hummel kid!"

"Well, then he is a more admirable person than either of you two," the nurse was angry. "Honestly, I will never understand you children and your incessant need to pick on others, especially ones that are smaller than you. Kurt Hummel has come to see me more than once with a bump to the head or a black eye and you know what he does? He just shrugs it away, saying he slipped in the hallway or walked into a door. As far as I'm concerned, Kurt and Noah are the bigger people here. You two should be ashamed."

There was a pause. The clock ticked loudly and Mercedes could feel her heart beating at her ribs. The Karofsky brothers were idiots, but were they stupid enough to argue with the school nurse?

"I want you two out of my office. Now. Get on over to Figgins. He can clean you two up the rest of the way himself if it's that important. I've done my job."

They heard heavy footsteps shuffling, obviously the Karofskys leaving. Then the nurse came back in, her face a little pink and her eyebrows drawn together.

"How's he doing?" she asked Mercedes, who wheeled herself away so the nurse could look at Puck's face. She made a clucking noise with her tongue, saying, "Well, it could have been a lot worse. They barely broke the skin. It shouldn't be bad enough to leave a scar, so don't worry about that."

Puck's face fell slightly and Mercedes almost giggled. Puck would wish for a scar.

"And let me take another look at you, Kurt," the nurse took a step over to examine Kurt's face. Mercedes looked over at her friend, wishing - not for the first time - that he didn't bruise so easily.

"I'll give you something for that black eye you'll no doubt have in a few hours," she said, fingers trailing lightly over Kurt's skin. "You're lucky too; there's no broken skin at all. A little swelling and you'll have quite the mark on your chin for a while, but no permanent physical damage." She turned to look at Mercedes, smiling sadly and saying, "Thank you for checking in on them, Miss Jones."

She made to leave, but paused at the doorway, turning to say, "You boys were very brave today. Now, I can't condone fighting, but Noah, what you did was truly admirable."

The three of them sat in the nurse's office until Mr. Schue came in, guilt written all over his face when he saw the state of Puck and Kurt's faces. He didn't say anything either, just sat with them for a few minutes. Then Matt came in, saying quietly, "Mr. Schue, the rest of the club is finished." Schue looked up, nodded, and made to leave, but not before he laid a hand on Kurt's shoulder, resting his hand there for a few seconds.

Mercedes drove Kurt home. She and Kurt and Puck had all wordlessly left the school together, not bothering to stop back at the choir room. Kurt invited her in, and the two of them waved hello to Mr. Hummel as they walked down to Kurt's bedroom, Kurt trying and failing to hide his face from view. Mr. Hummel ran after them, taking his son's face gently in his hands and examining it with a broken look on his face.

"Can I fix you up?" he finally asked, even though Mercedes was sure the nurse had already taken care of it.

She felt like an intruder, watching Mr. Hummel dab at Kurt's face with a washcloth, watching him gently put some sort of cream on Kurt's bruises, watching him wipe at his son's eyes with a tissue when tears appeared there. But Kurt was holding her hand, so she stayed put.

After Mr. Hummel had finished, he went back upstairs, promising to fix them something to eat. They heard the muffled sound of him shouting through the closed door, heard his voice reach such a volume that they were able to figure out that he was yelling at Figgins for letting this happen.

Kurt finally got up from his spot on the bed, releasing her hand and going over to the old record player he kept in the corner. He put on an album, which crackled slightly, and then Judy Garland's slightly faded voice filled the room. He sat back down, reaching under his bed and pulling out a plastic bin, pulling a blanket and a sewing kit out of it. She watched as Kurt unfolded the blanket, which was covered in embroidery, found an empty spot, and started sewing.

She let him pull the blanket up around them, let him lean against her as he worked on the blanket.

That was how Mr. Hummel found them later, when he had finally gotten off the phone with Figgins. He started down the stairs again, meaning to ask them what they wanted, but stopped with his mouth open when Mercedes put a finger to her lips. She pointed to Kurt, whose head was resting on her shoulder and whose slow breaths made it clear he had fallen asleep.

Mercedes gave Mr. Hummel a sad smile when he came over, brushing Kurt's hair from his face and pressing a light kiss to his son's forehead._  
_


	8. Mike

Mike had gotten teased for being gay, just like Kurt, back in middle school.

He was a dancer. Dancers were all gay. That was the thought process in Lima, so by the second day of sixth grade, everyone had decided that he was queer and deserved to be made fun of.

The big eighth graders on the football team had alternated between him and Kurt, tossing him into the dumpster on Tuesdays and Thursdays and Kurt on Mondays and Wednesdays. They celebrated Friday being the end of the week by giving Mike a wedgie and throwing a slushie in Kurt's face. It was like clockwork. Every day was exactly the same and the two of them figured out which days to wear older clothes or, in Mike's case, an extra pair of underwear.

It wouldn't have been so bad if he and Kurt could have had each other to talk to. Maybe they could have been friends. But they only had one class together: first period math, and nobody was awake enough to talk to each other during first period. The jocks made sure to keep Mike and Kurt far away from each other at lunch, obviously knowing that the two probably would have been good friends had they been left alone in the cafeteria.

Then Mike joined the cross country team in seventh grade. Kurt started dressing nicer. They started picking on Kurt more and on Mike less.

Mike joined the hip-hop club in eighth grade. Kurt played the piano accompaniment for the chorus and started wearing bow ties. Mike was suddenly cool. Kurt started taking daily dumpster dives.

In ninth grade everyone forgot that Mike had ever been picked on. Matt talked him into joining the football team. He started eating lunch with the other jocks. He could bust a move in the locker room and some of the guys would join in. He was allowed to be himself. Everyone thought he was cool. Everyone wanted him to teach them how to dance. Mike even went to a ballet club meeting and nobody looked twice.

Even though he pretty much had it made, Mike never forgot Kurt. He kept an eye out for the other boy, almost as if he was checking up on him without saying anything to him. He never threw Kurt in the dumpster. He didn't throw the pee balloons once he found out who the target was. He did help nail the lawn furniture to Kurt's roof, but that was only because he hadn't known whose house it was. Sometimes he would stand in front of Kurt in the hallways if he saw a slushie coming. Kurt would make a quip at him about this "not being a highway, but cutting people off is still rude" and go on his merry way, never knowing that Mike had spared him a trip to the bathroom and a change of clothes.

When Mr. Schuester told them about Day of Silence, Mike was actually pretty excited about it. It got him thinking about how he had been silently watching over Kurt for the past two years. Then he wished he could slap himself upside the head, because, honestly, that made him sound like such a creep. A really creepy guardian angel who was an awesome dancer.

Mr. Schue didn't tell them what this meant for glee practice, though. They would still have practice, but Mike had no idea what they were going to be doing if they couldn't talk. But that gave him an idea. Sure, glee club was about singing, but it was more about performing. About sharing a part of yourself with the rest of the group. So Mike decided that he would put together a dance routine in the spirit of Day of Silence. He would find a song that fit and then he would dance to it. It was going to be awesome.

What he didn't expect was to end up watching an entire movie online. Illegally.

His music selection consisted of typical hip-hop albums, some oldies, a lot of techno, and old-school Disney. And, go figure, none of the songs felt right. He went through his entire music library, looking for something that would work, but none of it did. So he turned to google, figuring that since Kurt liked showtunes, he should look up some musicals. Maybe he would find one that dealt with this sort of thing.

Then he found _Were the World Mine_.

The promo pictures were kind of cool and apparently there was a rugby team in the movie. The main character was dressed up with fairy wings and weird face-paint, which totally wasn't Mike's style at all, but the article said it dealt with a gay kid in a conservative town. That was pretty much Kurt's life, right?

He closed and locked his door when he realized just what was going on in the movie. It was a little off-putting if you weren't expecting it, but Mike tried to ignore that and focus more on the message. He did, however, like how the rugby team would break into dance whenever they were in one of Timothy's dream sequences... and then for real later on. The movie was kind of good overall, so when Mike found a download link for the soundtrack, he figured since he'd already pirated the movie he might as well, and clicked on it.

The music itself was very other-worldly, very suitable for a movie with spontaneous ballet scenes. Mike chose an instrumental number, "To Speak True," and started working on a dance sequence for it. A mix of his usual hip-hop style with more fluid motions and just a smidge of ballet, complete with facial expressions he practiced in the mirror.

Oh yeah, this was gonna be awesome.

Except at Glee practice that day Kurt wasn't there. Matt came in and told them all where he was, Mercedes went to check on him, and Mr. Schuester tried to keep everyone from freaking out (which was hard when nobody was talking). Then Schue told them that instead of working on their glee routines, they were going to write about their experiences during the Day of Silence.

Mike was a little disappointed that he didn't get to show off his super-awesome dance, but he could deal with it. He wrote about how weird it was not to talk, how weird it was when he couldn't tell people off for making fun of him. He wrote about how he had almost forgotten not to talk a couple times, mainly when he heard someone criticizing what they were doing.

Kurt never came to practice. Mike never got to perform his dance.

So Mike went home, feeling very put-out and trying to distract himself from the fact that something had happened to Kurt. He felt like he hadn't done his job or something, that he hadn't been there when the other needed him. It was as if he had stepped in front of Kurt a second too late, only to have the now slushie-covered boy walk into him, scowling.

Mike went over to Kurt's house later. His mom, who practically lived in the kitchen, had made cookies, so Mike snagged a dozen and brought them with him. Mr. Hummel answered the door and his brow furrowed, obviously having no idea who Mike was. But Mike just smiled and held up the cookies and Mr. Hummel seemed to understand.

"He's with Mercedes in his room," Mr. Hummel told him, showing him the way. "Thanks for coming. It'll probably cheer him up."

Feeling extremely corny and hoping that he didn't look too much like Rachel Berry, Mike walked down the stairs with his plate of cookies, smiling at Kurt and Mercedes, who were just sitting on Kurt's bed, a blanket spread out between them, music playing softly from a record player. They both looked up when Mike came in, so he waved, setting the plate down on Kurt's desk.

He ended up just sitting on Kurt's bed with the pair of them, listening to whoever this singer was and each playing with a hem of the blanket. It was embroidered almost all over, save a few blank spots. It didn't seem to have any set design or pattern, and Mike went cross-eyed trying to find one.

When the record ended, Kurt moved to put another one on, but Mike's hand at his elbow stopped him. He tugged his ipod out of his pocket, going over to replace Kurt's with his in the sound system, finding the song he wanted and adjusting the volume.

It was weird, dancing for Kurt and Mercedes in Kurt's bedroom. But when he finished the routine, slightly out of breath and wishing that he had had more room, the glow on Kurt's face made all the weirdness go away. _  
_


	9. Puck

"Puck, something's wrong."

He turned, seeing Matt's face creased with worry, his eyes wider than Puck had ever seen them. He was instantly concerned, his own eyes widening and one eyebrow raising, wordlessly saying, 'Tell me.'

Matt grabbed Puck's arm and pulled him into the nearest bathroom.

"I don't want anyone else to hear," Matt explained. "I mean, Karofsky's probably going to tell everyone eventually, so it doesn't matter, but I don't want it getting out yet. Finn's been through enough already."

Puck's expression darkened. Sure, he and Finn weren't on the best terms anymore, but that didn't change the fact that they'd been best friends since elementary school. When Kurt had gone to look for Finn at lunch, Puck had gone too, having a good idea of what may have happened to him. Obviously Matt had found out.

"It was Karofsky at lunch, obviously," Matt started the story, "and since I heard him bragging about it, it's probably not the entire story, but it's all I have since Finn's not talking and nobody else was there and even if Finn was talking he probably wouldn't tell anyone -"

Puck slammed his fist into the nearest bathroom stall. No wonder Matt never talked. This kid could ramble like nobody's business.

"Sorry," Matt got back on track quickly. "Well, obviously Karofsky got ahold of Finn during lunch. Turns out Finn punched his little brother earlier in the day. Karofsky didn't say why, but he probably deserved it. But they wanted to get back at Finn for that, so they took him into the locker room and held him down and let Karofsky's brother beat him up."

Puck was grinding his teeth together, both hands balled into fists. He made to storm out of the bathroom, wanting to beat Karofsky to a pulp, but Matt said abruptly, "Wait!"

He turned back around. That wasn't all? There was more?

"They... also somehow got it into their heads that there's something going on between Finn and Mr. Schue." Matt was squirming where he stood, obviously very uncomfortable with what he was saying. Puck's eyebrows were one bush line, they had drawn so close together. His teeth were clenched tightly together, more to keep him from saying anything than anything else.

"I mean, who cares if there is - not that I believe them - but they, um..." Matt was looking at the ground, shifting his feet. Puck reached forward, tilting Matt's face back up and not caring that it was weird to do that to someone you weren't planning on kissing. His eyes locked on Matt's, wordlessly telling him that he needed to tell him what had happened.

"Karofsky didn't really explain what happened or why," Matt's face was turning pink. "He just said they... uh... wanted to make sure that nothing was going on between Finn and Schue, so, uh, they checked."

Screw this silence thing.

"They _checked_?" Puck's voice was a low growl.

Matt took a step back. "I dunno what they did, but that's what Karofsky said."

"How do you think they checked?" Puck shook his head, punching a bathroom stall again. "How do you check if someone's a virgin, Matt? How do you think you figure something like that out?"

"You're not..." Matt's face was completely red, eyes wider than they had been before. "They wouldn't! They... they wouldn't _want_ to... right?"

"I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Puck slammed his way out of the bathroom, storming back towards the locker rooms. Matt was running after him. Why hadn't he checked the locker room first? It was the only place he and Kurt hadn't thought to check, Kurt running back and forth between empty classrooms and him banging on all the lockers to make sure Finn hadn't been shoved inside one (because contrary to popular belief, Finn can be shut in a locker). The idiots on the football team always used the locker room. He should know, he'd been part of it in the past. They were probably there now, gloating about it...

But when he pushed the doors open and began moving through the sets of lockers, Puck realized that gloating was a far better alternative to what he saw.

Karofsky's younger brother was holding Kurt up against the wall, his large hand pressed against Kurt's collarbone. Karofsky was pacing back and forth, taunting the smaller boy, trying to get him to talk. Puck could see a bruise already forming on Kurt's jawline.

"Karofsky!" Puck all but shouted, both of the brothers turning to look at him.

"Oh look, Puckerman's come to save his boyfriend," Karofsky sniggered. "You too, Rutherford? Didn't know you swung that way too."

"Let go of him," Puck's voice was strong and stern. Nobody questioned Puck when he talked like that. Nobody who valued their well-being, anyway.

"Why should I?" Karofsky's brother asked, and Puck realized that his nose was purple. That had to be Finn's handiwork, the reason he had gotten into this mess in the first place.

"Because I will beat the shit out of you if you don't," Puck said it so matt-of-factly that nobody in the room doubted it. Kurt's expression had softened and the Karofsky brothers both shifted uncomfortably. But that was only for a moment, because Karofsky retorted, "Us against three fags? I like those odds."

That comment obviously pushed Kurt over the edge. He started struggling against the hand that pinned him to the wall, swinging wildly, and trying to land a punch. The sight made Puck realize just how determined Kurt could be and just how useless his determination could be against someone so huge.

"Whoa there, Hummel," Karofsky's brother added his other hand, pressing harder on Kurt's collarbone. "Calm down, calm down, we just want to hear your pretty little voice. Tell us what's going on between you and Puckerman. If you're a good little boy, we won't take a peek like we did with Finn."

Puck launched himself at Karofsky's brother, but Karofsky got in the way, punching him in the eye. Momentarily blinded, Puck staggered backwards, feeling the area smarting. Matt's hands were suddenly under his armpits, helping him stay upright. He blinked a few times, eye throbbing, then launched himself forward again, this time aiming for Karofsky.

He got what he wanted this time, landing a punch on the nose. A couple more blows and he got Karofsky in a headlock, forcing the taller boy to his knees. Matt had pulled the other Karofsky off Kurt, copying Puck and putting him in a headlock as well.

"Not too bad for a bunch of fags," Karofsky grunted, making Puck tighten his hold on the other's neck. Karofsky let out a low moan of pain, obviously against his will.

"You okay, Kurt?" It was probably the first time Puck had ever used Kurt's first name to his face. Kurt was slumped against the wall, breathing hard, but he nodded. "Now, about you two," Puck turned his gaze to the two brothers. "What did you do to Finn?"

"N-nothing, I swear!" Karofsky's brother forced out, speech obviously impaired because of Matt's hold on him.

"Don't lie," Matt's voice was as low and threatening as Puck's. "We know you did something."

"Hey, we gave him a choice," Karofsky got out, still pulling against Puck's arm. "We told him, we said, 'Fess up or we'll look ourselves.'"

"And did you?" Puck really didn't want the answer. He would have given so much to be anywhere but here, finding out what had happened to his best friend. He wanted to beat the crap out of Karofsky until he was unconscious on the floor, to plug his ears and never have to find out.

"Yeah, we did," Karofsky sounded smug.

"And what did you do to him after that?" Puck heard Kurt's gasp, looked over to see the smaller boy's face pale. Obviously Kurt hadn't heard what had happened to Finn, just figured he had gotten beat up or something.

"Nothing," Karofsky's brother answered this time. "We didn't do anything to him."

"Why?" Puck didn't believe them. "I know what you two have done to people before. Last time you got someone's pants off you shot spitballs at his ass. What did you do to Finn?"

Nobody missed the uncomfortable look Karofsky and his brother exchanged.

"We didn't do anything because we're not like you!" Karofsky's brother burst out. "You fags get off on seeing naked guys, and it's disgusting!" Matt tightened his hold, shutting the younger Karofsky up.

"So you're telling me," Puck's voice was shaking, "that you had every intention of raping my best friend and then you figured out that it would make you gay too? Is that what you mean?" His hold on Karofsky had tightened again, making the other gag.

The next uncomfortable look confirmed it.

Puck let go of Karofsky, landing a kick on his backside. He kicked him again, sending him onto all fours, coughing, then went over to Kurt.

"Come here," he put an arm around Kurt's waist, feeling the other shy away from his touch. "I'm not going to hurt you," he promised. "And I'm not gonna talk anymore either."

Matt let go of the other Karofsky, giving him a similar kick to the one Puck had given his older brother, then followed Puck and Kurt out of the locker room. Puck steered Kurt to the nurse's office, Matt following them, and motioned for Matt to explain what had happened once they got there. He didn't really pay attention as Matt spoke; his eyes were trained on Kurt.

He was abruptly reminded of all the times he had taunted Kurt about his sexuality. How many times he had used the word 'fag.' How many times he had thrown Kurt in the dumpster. How many slushies he had hurled at him. How many times he had been the cause of Kurt's bruises, how they had been the reason for more than one high-five with Karofsky.

Puck might be a whore, an asshole, and a Lima-loser, but one thing he swore never to be again was a bully._  
_


	10. Quinn

_It'll always be Drizzle to me. Who's Beth?_

* * *

Quinn spent most of the day thinking about Drizzle.

It was a circular thinking process. One minute she would be sitting in class, then her hand would go to her stomach, her thumb would start rubbing up and down as a way of comforting her unborn baby, and then the thinking would start. Touching her stomach was almost an instinctual reaction at this point, but she normally didn't get lost in thought so easily.

It was because of the Day of Silence, of course. The reason they were doing it was planted firmly in the back of her mind, entering into her otherwise normal, unrelated thoughts when it was least wanted. Her thoughts about baby Drizzle were no exception.

It was exhausting, having the same emotional battle with yourself over and over all day long. She didn't have any good distractions either; none of the glee club were talking, none of her old Cheerio teammates ever stopped to say hello. She almost wished someone would hurl an insult at her, just to break the unbearable silence. But they didn't. She had become invisible, worthless, not even deserving of a raised eyebrow.

So when Quinn went to glee practice, she hoped that Mr. Schue would have something for them to do that would break the monotony. She knew they couldn't sing, but maybe they would work on new dance steps or something. Anything to give her mind a break.

She wanted to strangle Schue when he wrote on the board what he wanted them to do.

__

_Take out your notebooks and a pencil and write about your day._

It didn't say if they were going to share them. It didn't say if he was going to collect them. It said next to nothing, just write about your day. Quinn could write that her day was horrible and she hated Mr. Schue for taking away one of the few things she had left, but that would be a lie. She had chosen to do this. Her choice.

__

_My choice._

Just like she had chosen to keep baby Drizzle, to not snuff out a tiny life before it had even began. Just like she had chosen to lie to Finn, to not tell the truth from the beginning. Just like she had chosen to start making amends, to start practicing what she was preaching.

She got out her notebook and a pencil and started writing.

__

_Have you ever had one of those days where your mind continues to be focused on one thing? It never strays, only for a few minutes here and there, but you're stuck in the same circle of thought all day long. That's exactly what my day was like._

__

I started thinking about Drizzle. I've chosen to give her up for adoption. I can't take care of a baby, no matter who decides to help me. I'm not ready to be a mom. I need to do what's right for my kids, the one I'm having now and the one's I'll have later. If I drop out of school now and try to take care of Drizzle, that wouldn't be fair to her. I wouldn't be able to provide for her like an adoptive family would. And any kids that I would have later would have to grow up with a mother who's not properly educated. It's not fair to anyone if I don't take care of myself, make myself the best I can be here and now so that I'm ready to be a proper mother once the time comes.

But then I started to wonder what sort of girl Drizzle will grow up to be. You know, the type of stuff that genetics won't do for you. I don't know her adoptive parents yet. I don't know how old they are, if they have any other kids, where they live, what sort of jobs they have. All that will affect my baby. That will be the life she lives and I can't change any of that. As soon as she's born, her life is out of my hands. And that's scary. I'm carrying this precious life for nine months only to entrust complete strangers with the rest of her life?

She's going to look like Puck. I can feel it. What if her adoptive parents take one look at her, then at me, then decide they don't want her? What if they were expecting a little golden-haired princess, someone who looks exactly like me? That might have happened if Finn really had been the father, but no way with Puck. And what if she takes after Puck's personality too? What if she turns into a little rebellious monster and her adoptive family decides they don't want her? Can they give her back? Or would she go into foster care?

I know this isn't what I'm supposed to be worrying about on Day of Silence. I should have been more affected by the actual issue, but it's hard to focus on what's happening in the world when you have another life right below your fingertips. A lot of thought comes with that kind of responsibility.

I wonder what will happen if Drizzle is a lesbian. I wondered that a lot today, actually. More than usual. I wonder about a lot of things, like whether she'll be a lesbian, what political party she'll stand for, what her grades will be like, if she'll ever get cancer, if she'll ever need an organ transplant. A lot of things. But today I worried a lot about what might happen if she's a lesbian.

I know what I would do if I kept her and that happened. I would have a talk with her, not to try and change her mind, but to make sure that she knows what she wants. I'd have the same conversation with any of my kids once they started dating, so don't think I'm a homophobe. But I would tell her what the world is like to girls like her, what can happen. I would make sure she knows what she's getting herself into. Then I would tell her that I love her and that I will support her no matter what. She's my baby Drizzle and I love her.

Will her adoptive parents be as accepting? Will they have someone like Kurt that they can call up and say, 'Talk to my daughter. She's a lesbian,' when she's being bullied at school? Will they have the courage to let her be whoever she wants or will they make her hide it? Will they abandon her? Will they kick her out of her own house?

___I'm scared for my baby. I know it's normal and natural and that it makes sense, but it doesn't feel normal. It feels like I'm worrying too much and that I'm stressing myself out too much. Drizzle is worth every bit of worry, though. I just hope her adoptive parents can see that, no matter what._  



	11. Rachel

_Just to give everyone a heads up: The next chapter (Santana) will be up on Saturday, but I can't promise an update exactly two days after. Family commitments take precedence over fanfic updates, so look for Tina's chapter (most likely) three days after instead._

* * *

This was quite possibly the worst day of Rachel Berry's life.

It had started out all right. Most days that end up going horribly wrong do, after all. Rachel had gotten up early, as usual, got her morning workout done, showered, and came down to find breakfast all laid out for her. Her dads were really good at making breakfast, no matter how terrible they were at everything else. None of the spoke while they ate, just smiled around at each other and listened to A Love Worth Fighting For playing softly in the background. It was a Berry family tradition on Day of Silence. it reminded them what they were doing this for.

Rachel had picked out her outfit carefully the night before. A simple white T-shirt and jeans, something she normally wouldn't get caught dead wearing. But this was something she and her dads had talked about for weeks ahead of time. Ever since the NOH8 organization had gotten started, they had dressed like this. Admittedly that wasn't very long (it had only been a year) but it felt like longer. That was a piece of advice her dads had given her the first time she had told them she wanted to do Day of Silence too: "Dress down. You don't want to attract any unnecessary attention."

It was hard enough keeping quiet for a whole day without people criticizing your sweater, Rachel remembered from eighth grade.

So she was dressing up as if for a NOH8 photoshoot today. Jesse was too. It was going to be awesome.

Nothing about the day turned out awesome, except maybe the photos she and Jesse and Kurt took.

Thank God for Matt in first period, because it probably would have been unbearable without him. She knew people were going to make fun of her, especially with the duct tape and fake tattoo, but he kept them quiet. There were still whispers, but nobody said anything to her face. Part of her wished they would. Wondering what they were saying could be worse than actually hearing it. But Matt sat next to her ("I don't believe in assigned seats, Ms. Stone.") and was glaring around at anyone that looked their way.

She ran into Kurt in the bathroom before her third class. He was staring at his reflection determinedly, obviously giving himself a silent pep talk. His face was damp and red, a clear sign that he had just wiped it off. Had someone written on his face? Had he been crying? His eyes did look kind of red...

She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, feeling him jump at her touch. He turned to look at her, eyes searching her face. Rachel just looked at him, the duct tape stopping her from asking him what had happened. So she did the only thing that made sense and pulled him into a tight hug.

Kurt practically collapsed in her arms. He wasn't crying, he was just hanging there in the air, legs supporting him just enough to keep him upright. He needed a hug right now. He needed to know that they still cared about him, that they were there for him. She gave him a squeeze then let go, practically feeding off the relief she saw in his face. It was so hard to communicate without words, but his face said it all.

_Meet me in the choir room during free period_, she wrote in a notebook, showing this to Kurt. He nodded, trying to smile.

Rachel had a distinct feeling that Kurt wouldn't be going to his next class at all. She went to her next class like a good little girl, taking notes and texting Jesse under her desk. She and Jesse and Kurt did an impromptu NOH8 photoshoot in the choir room, something she was feeling very good about by the time they were done and the period was over. Kurt had definitely cheered up by the end. Jesse walked him to his next class and Rachel waved goodbye to the pair of them. She would have been smiling if it hadn't been for the duct tape.

The smile must have shown on her face anyway, because no sooner had she sat down for her next class than one of the girls on the Cheerios - one who hated seeing Rachel happy for any reason - turned in her seat and said, "You know, Berry, I think the whole school would agree that the duct tape is an improvement."

Rachel rolled her eyes. She'd been getting snide remarks like that almost all day. Well, that is when Matt hadn't been able to stop them.

"Not only do we not have to hear your screechy voice, but we don't have to see your misshapen mouth."

Honestly, was this really the best they could do? Rachel had built up quite the resistance to taunts about her voice and looks. She was Barbara Streisand. She could take it.

"Oh wait, this wasn't for us, was it? It's for that stupid Day of Silence thing Mr. Schuester told us about. Well, he didn't actually say anything. Just wrote some bullshit on the board about it. Kind of backwards thinking, isn't it? Staying quiet when you want your message to be heard, I mean. That seems kind of stupid to me."

Admittedly Rachel had thought about the same thing herself. But that didn't mean she was going to forget why she was doing this. It was just as much in remembrance as it was to educate. It was a tribute to all those who never had a voice. It was a day in their shoes. It was a tribute to people like Kurt, people like her fathers. This girl was not going to get under her skin.

"I bet you don't really want to do this, Berry," the girl lowered her voice, but Rachel made no move to lean in closer. She didn't care if she missed a couple words. But the girl pushed her own chair closer, one elbow resting on the front of Rachel's desk. "That's really why you have the duct tape over your mouth. Your two fathers," she didn't have to say it like it was some sort of abnormality, "probably did it do you."

A laugh, then she continued. "You probably hate having two fathers. You probably wish more than anything else that you could live a normal life with two normal parents. With a mother. But your dads are probably so caught up in this gay rights crap that they don't even notice how sad you are. They probably slapped that tape on your mouth and shoved you out the door. And it'll hurt to take it off, so you don't want to. Because as soon as you come home without that tape, they'll slap on another piece. And you'll have to go through it all over again."

She wasn't going to cry, she wasn't going to cry, she wasn't going to cry, she wasn't, she wasn't...

"Face it, Berry, your dads care more about themselves than they do about you. They'd rather take away their daughter's voice for a day than even consider her feelings. They'll probably run away to Massachusetts as soon as you graduate. They'll sell their home and all your old stuff and leave. Because you're a straight girl, Berry - as far as I know - and they don't care about you. Because you're not like them, and they're disappointed because of that."

It was all lies. All a bunch of lies. Rachel had had countless conversations with her dads about their sexuality and her own sexuality and never once had they ever seemed disappointed. They loved her. They cared for her and more than once they'd kept their mouths shut and gone along with what other parents had said because they wanted Rachel to be able to have playdates, to be able to have friends at dance camp, to be able to lead as normal a life as possible. Her dads were selfless, wonderful men who loved her, but none of that seemed to matter to anyone.

So Rachel cried. She burst into tears in the middle of the classroom, attracting the attention of everyone there.

"What's going on?" their teacher finally walked in, eyes immediately going to Rachel.

"Oh, don't worry about her," the girl pushed her chair away from Rachel's desk. "She's just crying about fag day, or whatever it's called. Nothing important."

Rachel couldn't stop herself. Nobody used that word in front of her and got away with it. She reached forward, fingers closing around the girl's ponytail, and pulled. Hard.

"Rachel!" their teacher started towards them. The girl yelled, toppling out of her chair. She made to turn and try to return the favor, but their teacher got there before she could, stepping between the two girls. "I will not have that kind of language in my classroom. And we do not resort to physical violence. I want you to switch seats with Pete today, Rachel."

Pete sat at the other end of the classroom, and he and Rachel got up and wordlessly crossed the room. The girl was saying something about telling Figgins, but Rachel wasn't paying attention. She was still thinking about all the hurtful things the girl had said about her dads, thinking so hard that she almost didn't hear Pete when he said, "Your seat's probably contaminated with fag germs, Berry."

Rachel Berry was normally a good little girl who did as she was told. She never hurt anyone, whether it be with her fists or her words. But this was too much for one day, so she glared at Pete and flipped the bird.

Unfortunately, her teacher saw.  
"Rachel Berry, put that down!"

Honestly, it's just a finger. Her teacher was acting like she was holding up some sort of weapon or something.

"Figgins' office, Rachel."

So Rachel went. Her tongue was aching with all the words she wanted to spit at everyone, but she kept quiet and walked out of the room, ignoring the whispers. Her teacher followed her down the hallway, making her feel as if she was seven years old.

But Figgins seemed to be on their side this time.

"I've had three teachers come see me about this already," he explained after the two of them had sat down. "These children are doing nothing wrong by not speaking. And I believe William had them do this as some sort of project, so I'm afraid you'll have to speak with him if there's some sort of problem."

"No, her not speaking is not the problem. The problem is, Rachel here flipped another student off, right after pulling another girl's hair. I do not allow this sort of behavior in my classroom."

"Nor do I allow it inside my school," Figgins nodded. "You may go back to your classroom. I will speak with Miss Berry about this."

If Rachel was supposed to feel lucky when Figgins let her write down what had happened, she must have missed the point. She didn't feel very lucky. Artie came in not long after, his teacher soon following. Artie's teacher was scary, and Rachel was grateful when Artie reached out to hold her hand. It was comforting.

Lunch was horrible, the glee club sitting together exchanging nervous looks while they waited for Kurt and Puck to come back with Finn. They never did, and the club went their separate ways, all still worried. She got slushied a period after, almost crying when she remembered that she was wearing a white shirt. It was even more humiliating when people could see your bra.

The girls in her gym class stole her clothes, so she went the rest of the day in her stinky gym clothes. Someone spray painted her locker, the graffiti reading, "you suck." On any other day Rachel would have been able to put it behind her, but not today. Then in glee they had to write about their days. Mr. Schuester was making it worse by making her relive her entire day, but he didn't know that. He wanted them to learn from it. But Rachel had been learning from all of this for years and all she'd learned was that people suck.

When Rachel got home, both her dads were waiting for her. One was holding a bowl of strawberries and the other had a glass of water. The three of them curled up together on the sofa, eating strawberries like some people eat popcorn. Rachel tried not to cry in front of them. She didn't want them to feel guilty.

She thought sending the NOH8 pictures to Jesse and Kurt would be fun. It would give her something to do. But the first few pictures of Kurt, where he wouldn't move and just sat there staring into space, scared her. She wanted to delete them. She wanted to never have to see Kurt look like that again.

Instead she wrote two emails. One to the NOH8 organization and one to the official Day of Silence people. She told them about her day, about how much she admired both of their efforts. She attached three pictures to the email: one of Kurt, one of herself with Kurt, and one of Jesse and Kurt.

The pictures with two of them were fun ones, ones that would make whoever got the emails smile. But the one of just Kurt was one that scared her. It was terrifying, seeing one of her friends so lifeless, but this was still real life. She wasn't going to sugarcoat it for anyone.

She wanted them to know that they were appreciated, but she was still scared of what could happen if their efforts failed. _  
_


	12. Santana

_Kay, people have been asking about whether I'm doing a chapter for Kurt. I think I said a few chapters back that I was doing everyone including Kurt, but in case I didn't, I'll clarify. I'm doing the characters in alphabetical order, but I'm saving Kurt's for last. Hopefully the reasons for doing that are obvious. So don't worry, I didn't forget him. He's kind of important._

* * *

Santana thought this was a really stupid idea.

When Mr. Schue told them just what he wanted them to do, Santana rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, a sour expression locked on her face. She exchanged an exasperated look with Puck, trying to ignore the puppy dog eyes Schue was giving the club.

But she was a team player, so she'd do it. If there was one thing she'd learned from being in glee club, it was how to be a team player and play by the rules. In Cheerios they didn't really have rules. Anyone could get kicked off at any moment, so they were always in constant competition with each other. Glee club was like a breath of fresh air, the way a team was supposed to be.

Besides, Santana liked Kurt. He got on well with Brittany and Santana liked everyone that got on well with Brittany. Lord knows the girl can get eccentric sometimes.

That didn't mean she was going to jump up and down and be all excited about keeping quiet all day, though. She still thought it was a stupid idea. What point does being quiet make?

It was kind of ironic that she spent most of the day shushing Brittany.

Brittany loved talking to people and Santana loved gossiping about people, so the two of them could talk all day long if nobody interrupted them. They normally whispered to each other during class and texted each other under the table once their teachers started giving them warning looks. Their friendship had been built on their conversations. After all, who else can Brittany go to when she wants to talk about polka-dotted hair bows or her pet duck "Ballad" or whether Mr. Schue would let them have an end-of-year glee tea party? Anyone else would just laugh at her.

She felt kind of bad, shushing her best friend all day long. Brittany obviously didn't understand that they were supposed to keep completely quiet, so she kept looking sadder and sadder as the day went on. Santana pulled Matt aside to explain it to her, and even though Brittany nodded and smiled, she still tried to whisper to Santana not five minutes later.

Finally fed up of the puppy dog eyes that Brittany and Schue both seemed to have down, Santana slipped Brittany a note telling her that she had a sore throat and had lost her voice. Brittany's eyes widened and she made one of those little sympathetic noises that was just so her. Santana grinned and shrugged, putting a finger to her lips. Brittany nodded, thinking she had finally found out why her best friend wasn't talking to her.

Brittany didn't say anything until lunch. Practically beaming, she sat at her usual spot at Santana's side, pushing a tray towards her. There was a bowl of soup and a bottle of water on it, and when Santana looked at her with a raised eyebrow, she whispered, "To make your throat all better."

That got a real, genuine smile. Normally the two girls would just be drinking down whatever liquid meal Coach Sylvester had assigned them that week, but Brittany was holding both of their water bottles, Santana noticed, most likely so she would eat what was in front of her and not upchuck it later. Brittany really was good at taking care of people. She may not know the square root of four and sometimes she might spell her name wrong, but she was going to make a really great mother some day.

So Santana ate all the soup and drank all the water and Brittany went with her to the bathroom afterwards because a meal like that makes you have to pee _really_ badly. And even though Santana hadn't drunk a vomiting agent and wasn't puking her lunch back up, Brittany still smoothed back her hair and gave her a pat on the back.

And that was when Santana realized just why they were doing this and why it wasn't a stupid idea.

She was a realist. There was no way she and Brittany were going to have any sort of future together romantically, and sometimes she wasn't sure she wanted that type of future with her. Sure, they had fooled around enough to know that neither one of them was arrow-straight, but that wasn't the kind of life for either one of them. Brittany was going to wise up someday and find a man who respected her and loved her and they would get married and have five kids and a dog. It would be just like those Disney movies Brittany loved so much.

But until that happened, they had each other. They were best friends who may or may not make out on occasion, and they should be able to do whatever they wanted without turning heads. Day of Silence wasn't just for people like Kurt or like Rachel's dads, it was for people like them who wanted to look back on what they had done and not be ashamed of it.

She smiled over at Brittany, linking pinkies with the other girl and walking to class feeling much happier than she had that morning.


	13. Tina

_Sorry for the wait! I'll be back to updating every other day for the next (and last) two chapters. Enjoy!_

* * *

Tina had a really boring day at school.

It was probably one of the most uneventful days of the entire year, minus all the running-around-at-lunch drama that went down. For her, it was just another day. Nothing special about it.

She had perfected the role of silent observer since she had adopted her fake stutter. Her teachers gradually stopped calling on her, most of them annoyed that she couldn't even get out a yes or a no without stammering. The kids that had teased her back in middle school quit once they realized she wasn't going to say anything back. Nobody gave her the time of day anymore, just left her to sit on her own.

Now the only people she talked to were the members of the glee club, and none of them were talking today. It was just like her days had been before the club had started: silent and boring.

So when she got to glee club and was asked to write about her day, Tina looked down at the paper in her lap guiltily. She didn't have anything to write about. Nothing had happened to her. She could write about being worried about Finn at lunch, but Finn was probably going to write about whatever had happened to him. Tina's eyes found the boy and locked onto him. He wasn't writing anything down. Yet.

Tina let her eyes roam around the choir room. It seemed so lifeless, even with all of them there. Everyone was subdued, writing about their days and not letting their minds wander. Some of them wrote quickly, obviously wanting to get things over with, and some wrote slower, wanting to make sure they remembered everything.

Rachel was looking at her notebook as if it had offended her. It probably had, Tina reasoned, because it was forcing her to relive what had happened that day. Rachel's pencil was practically a blur in her hand. She obviously wanted this to be over with as soon as possible. For someone who always saw things through and did things properly, this was a big change. This wasn't the Rachel Tina knew. This was an angry, disappointed, and completely disheartened Rachel who just wanted to run away and hide.

Jesse, who was sitting next to Rachel, had a more solemn and controlled look on his face. His day had obviously gone better than Rachel's. He kept pausing his writing, looking over at the wall for a few seconds, then went back to his notebook. That was the sign of someone trying to find the right words, trying to make something perfect.

Quinn kept pausing while writing as well, Tina noticed. Every minute or so she would stop and let her fingers trail along her swollen stomach, obviously thinking about her baby. Tina didn't blame her; Quinn looked ready to explode, no matter what she said about not being due for a month.

Her eye was drawn over to Mike, who looked very fidgety. That was nothing new, though. That boy could barely sit through their math class without making a trip or two to the pencil sharpener. He was tapping his feet and wiggling in his seat, obviously wanting to get up an move. She couldn't blame him; they were at glee practice and most of the time Mike would be dancing circles around the rest of them in the first five minutes.

Puck and Mercedes and Kurt were all missing, she noticed next. She knew where they were, so that was hardly a mystery, but Tina wished she knew what had happened. The anxiety in the room was so thick she could have taken a bite out of it. Mike wasn't the only one fidgeting. Tina looked down at her own lap, realizing that she was moving one of her legs up and down subconsciously. Artie, who had obviously finished writing and had noticed that she was also distracted, reached over to take one of her hands. They shared a small smile that was more like a grimace.

Mr. Schuester left after a couple minutes, probably to check on Kurt, Puck, and Mercedes. Everyone in the room stiffened at the absence of their teacher. He was the one keeping them safe, in Tina's opinion, the only thing that held authority over the rest of the students. Artie's grip tightened over Tina's fingers, crushing them together. It was uncomfortable, but she didn't let go.

Matt left a few minutes later after asking around to see if everyone was done. He returned with Mr. Schue in tow, who dismissed them with a small nod for the door. He held out his hands expectantly, no doubt wanting to collect their stories. The rest of the club handed them over without thinking twice about it, But Tina held onto her notebook. There was nothing written there, nothing to be proud of.

So she wrote in big letters on a blank page, "Can I stay and read them with you?"

After saying a wordless goodbye to Artie, Tina sat down in the chair next to the piano. Mr. Schue spread the notebooks out on top of the instrument, dragging the piano bench over next to the chair and sitting down beside her. Tina let her eyes wander over the notebooks, recognizing Artie's almost-cursive-but-not-really scrawl and Finn's big, smudged letters, Rachel's neat script and Quinn's slightly neater writing. Tina chose Matt's unfamiliar handwriting to start with, noticing that Mr. Schue chose Rachel's.

They swapped notebooks back and forth, teacher and student sitting together with their heads bent, societal roles forgotten. Tina's eyes blurred while reading Rachel's and Jesse's, noticing that Mr. Schue started sniffing loudly as well. When Tina reached for Finn's, she noticed that Mr. Schue's hand had stopped halfway there, obviously having saved the same notebook for last.

Tina wasn't sure what she expected to find in Finn's. He might not have written about what had happened at lunch at all. It might just be a page full of nothing for all they knew. But either way, they had saved it for last for a reason.

So instead of making Mr. Schue wait to read it, Tina scooted over onto the bench next to her teacher, holding the notebook between them. Eye contact was made for a split second, then they both began to read.


	14. Will

Will Schuester had always been a team player.

His willingness to help others started at a very young age when his younger brother had drawn all over the living room walls with crayons. His parents weren't stupid and they knew that he hadn't done it, but he told them that he had anyway. They couldn't really do much about it, anyway. Andy was only three at the time and they had left the crayons out on the table. But Will didn't want his little brother to get in trouble, so he had confessed to the graffiti-ing of the walls.

His camaraderie with his brother grew stronger after that. Andy was a little snot and everyone knew it, but Will loved him and cared about him. When Andy got in trouble for kidnapping their neighbor's dog, Will said he had helped. When Andy started school and decided that he liked hiding in the bathroom more than going to class, Will held his hand and marched him into his classroom. When Andy was bullied by the big, mean second grader, Will gave the kid a black eye.

This over-protective older brother instinct stuck with him his whole life. He started packing Andy's lunches for him once they got older and tutored him in Spanish. He introduced Andy to all his future teachers so they'd know who he was ahead of time. He went to all of Andy's soccer games, wearing a homemade shirt with Andy's name and number on it (which probably embarrassed the younger boy to no end).

And it wasn't just Will doing things for Andy. Andy took after his brother's kindness and helped him out any way he could. He took the heat when Will crashed his bike into the family's car and helped him clean up the mess after his first big party. He played the piano when Will wanted to practice his songs for glee club and badgered Will until he agreed to learn the guitar with him. Andy went to all of the glee club's performances, donning a shirt similar to the one Will wore to his soccer games, catcalling whenever his brother got a solo.

The two of them were best friends, learning from each other and loving each other just the way brothers should. Will took everything being an older brother had taught him and used it in his everyday life, helping his friends when they needed it and always being there to support them. His leadership and team spirit was what got their glee club to Nationals.

It made sense that he had decided to study education in college. He had practically taught his entire glee club how to speak Spanish, so he had plenty of practice in the area. Will formed study groups with his friends, talked to the quiet girl in the back of his literature class, went to all the college's football games, and wrote to his brother once a week.

So when Kurt came to him and told him about Day of Silence, Will knew that this was one opportunity he was not going to let slide by.

He prepped his classroom the night before, wanting to make sure everything would run as smoothly as possible. He got some information off of the Day of Silence website, copying it down and translating it into Spanish. Sure, it was busywork, but what else was he supposed to do? He was a Spanish teacher who wasn't talking for a day, and he wasn't about to pop in a Spanish-dubbed version of Spongebob Squarepants.

But Will wasn't an idiot. He heard what people were whispering. He even caught wind of the rumor that one of the Karofsky brothers had started, the one about him and Finn being more than just teacher and student. Will wanted to find Finn and talk to him about it, but every time he caught sight of him, Finn would pointedly turn in the other direction. It was as if he was trying to quash the rumors by ignoring his favorite teacher.

The stares he got in the staff room at lunch confirmed that a good portion of the faculty had heard the rumor as well. Will tried to pretend that everyone wasn't staring at him, tried to eat his sandwich in peace, but the familiar sight of a brightly-colored tracksuit soon obscured his vision. Sighing heavily, he looked up to meet Sue Sylvester's cold eyes with his own hopeful stare.

"Hey buddy," she began cheerfully, pulling out the chair opposite him and sitting down. Will could feel everyone in the room leaning closer, not wanting to miss what Sue was going to say. "I heard you and your little glee club aren't talking today. Care to explain why?" She was feigning interest, a sure sign that she had already thought this entire one-sided conversation through. Will's expression hardened, a frown creasing his brow.

"Oh, right, you can't say anything. How silly of me." Sue laughed shortly, grinning at him. "But you see, William, I, like the rest of the population of this school, know how to use Google. So I did a little search and you know what I found?" She leaned in closer. "Hmm?"

Sue was baiting him, trying to get him to say something. Will just shrugged noncommittally.

"I found out that it's international sneaky gay day," Sue's expression and voice both hardened. "Which makes me wonder just what sort of values you are passing on to these kids. Just because you stayed in your loveless marriage for years because of the conveniency of having a beard doesn't mean you should encourage these kids to do the same thing.

"In fact, I'm shocked I didn't figure it out sooner," Sue tilted her head to one side, scrutinizing him. "You have a love affair with vests, you tear up whenever someone sings a song about kittens and rainbows, your affinity for showtunes is probably only matched by Sandy's love of Adam Lambert, and your hairstyle must pay homage to your lesbian mentor." Sue slammed her hand down on the table, exclaiming, "William Schuester is a sneaky gay!"

Will just stared at her, raising an eyebrow as if to say, "So?"

"But you know something, Will?" Sue was leaning back in her chair, one finger wagging at him. "You may be a cookie-cutter example of a sneaky gay hiding in plain sight, but there's one thing I don't understand. How do you still have a job here when you have passed on your disease to one of your students? What have you really been teaching that giant oaf, Finn Hudson?"

It was Will's turn to slam his hand down on the table.

"Dammit, Sue!" He couldn't keep quiet this time. "I don't care what you say about me, but when you bring my kids into this, that's where I draw the line. There is nothing going on between me and Finn or any of my other students, so you can stop right there before you make yourself look foolish. Finn Hudson is a wonderful boy, but that's what he is: a boy. And there is nothing going on between us."

Will looked around the room, making eye contact with every faculty member there.

"Anyone else need something clarified?" He stood up, grabbing his lunch and heading for the door. He pushed the door open with a little too much force, leaving it to bang shut behind him, but he didn't care. Will dumped the rest of his lunch in the trash, having lost his appetite, and went back to his office, closing and locking the door behind him.

He pulled out his phone, pressing and holding the number two. He sat down and, after six rings, he got an answer.

"Willy, you have the worst possible timing ever!" Andy whined, making Will laugh. "Come on, what can possibly be so important that you called right as I was about to get Hottie McHottie-Pants's phone number?"

"Is that what you're calling them now?" Will was laughing again. "How old are you, twleve?"

"Well, he was," Andy said defensively, and Will could see him sticking out his tongue at the phone. "So make this worth my while, Willy, or I won't pick up next time."

"Whatever you say, Andy," Will leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and already feeling much better. "But listen, I was thinking that maybe sometime before the end of the year you could come visit McKinley to meet New Directions..."


	15. Kurt, part 1

_I really didn't want to do this. Like, really REALLY didn't want to do this. But Kurt's chapter is taking me a really long time, it's already more than 5,000 words, and the end is not in sight. But I promised to update every other day and I keep my promises. And sure, technically I missed my every-other-day deadline by an hour, but let's not mention that, okay?_

_So here it is: 5,253 words of Kurt Hummel's day of silence. Part one of... however many parts I need._

* * *

Kurt was used to Day of Silence being the worst day of the year.

It had been like that ever since he started participating. At first people hadn't known what he was doing, but unfortunately everyone in the building had access to a computer at some point in the day. By the time school had ended, it seemed like everyone knew what Day of Silence was for. Eighth graders elbowed him out of the way more than they usually did while the rest of the seventh grade class pretended not to see him. (The exception being Rachel Berry, who stared at him with big, pity-filled doe eyes from across the hall.) Even some of the sixth graders plucked up enough courage to laugh at him. And in Lima, no sixth grader _ever_ laughs at a seventh grader.

Eighth grade hadn't been much better. He had been thrown in the dumpster and they had actually shut the lid on top of him. To cap it all off, there was either some idiot sitting on top of it or something, because he couldn't for the life of him get it back open. Kurt was almost positive that his prolonged stay in the dumpster that day made him mildly claustrophobic.

At least in ninth grade nobody had tossed him in the dumpster. Sure, he had been pinned down and had obscene words and a penis drawn on his face, but at least they hadn't shut him in the janitor's closet or something. Sharpie could be scrubbed off. Claustrophobia was a bigger problem.

So Kurt was already mentally prepared for whatever was going to happen to him this year. He had started shutting himself in his closet at home in an attempt to get over his claustrophobia in case there was a repeat of eighth grade. (Finn's confused remark of, "Kurt… I think everyone already knows you're gay, so you can come out now," had helped significantly.) He took special care during his nighttime skin care routine, knowing that he might get drawn on again.

But something that was going to be different this time was that he wouldn't be doing it alone. He was going to have thirteen other people doing it with him, including his almost-step-brother. Kurt would feel all sappy and cliché admitting it, but the fact that Finn would be doing it too meant more than everyone else combined. After Finn had blown up at him, they had both realized that they needed to be painfully honest with each other if they were ever going to end up with a healthy, brotherly relationship.

They had done just that, Kurt prefacing almost every criticism of Finn's wardrobe with, "I swear this isn't me trying to get you naked, but…" Finn would yell, "Personal space!" if Kurt ever started getting too close for comfort, and eventually they got all their feelings out in the open. Sometimes things were a little weird, but Kurt could confidently say that he now saw Finn as nothing more than a friend and any love he had for the boy had turned strictly brotherly in nature.

Kurt decided to talk with Finn about Day of Silence before they went to bed the night before. Finn always came down late, having taken quite the fancy to watching as much TV as he could on their 55-inch screen. Kurt waited until Finn finished in the bathroom, then cleared his throat and asked, "Can I talk to you?"

Finn slipped into his own bed, turning to he was facing Kurt. "Sure. What's up?"

Kurt copied Finn, turning so he was lying on his side. "Are you sure you're okay with not talking tomorrow?" He could make out Finn's outline in the darkness of their room, giving himself a moment to revel in how strange it felt, being in his dark bedroom with the boy he used to have a crush on.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Finn's tone suggested that he was surprised Kurt was asking.

"I just don't want you to do it feeling like you have to," Kurt said quickly. "Mr. Schue did kind of spring it on all of you, and as much as I appreciate the team spirit, I don't want any of you getting hurt."

"Hurt?" Finn was confused.

"You know what's happened to me before," Kurt's hands started clenching, gripping his sheets tightly. "I just don't want anything like that happening to any of you."

"Everything's going to be okay," Finn insisted. "And sure, some of the guys at school are idiots, but we're better than them. I told my mom about it, and that's what she told me. Well, not in those exact words, but you get the point. Besides, you're family now. Family sticks up for each other."

Kurt sniffed loudly.

"Wait, are you crying?" Finn sat up, leaning closer, probably squinting to try and see Kurt's face properly. Kurt laughed thickly, because he was, in fact, crying.

"Thank you."

"But… I didn't do anything."

"Yes you did," Kurt sniffed again and Finn leaned even closer. "Finn, I don't want to sound like a sappy movie, but you doing Day of Silence with me means so much. Probably more than you know."

"I'm not good at this part," Finn admitted. "I never know what to do when girls get all sad and start crying. Not that you're a girl," he added quickly, making Kurt laugh again.

"I get it," he assured the taller boy. A pause, then he said quietly, "I love you. In a completely platonic and brotherly way."

Finn's posture shifted. "Well… I don't know what platonic means, but I think that's a good thing."

Kurt curled into a ball under his blankets, pulling them closer. "Yeah, that's a good thing." He hadn't meant to say that at all, but it had just come out. Now he felt exposed, as if he was lying spread-eagled under a spotlight with Finn's critical eyes on him. But, all things considered, Finn was taking this declaration very well. Just a month ago he probably would have started shouting. Or bolted for the door.

Instead, Finn just shrugged, laid back down, and went to sleep.

It took Kurt quite a while longer to fall asleep. He readjusted his pillow at least five times, kicking his blankets off then pulling them on again, always feeling too hot then too cold. His mental anxiety was affecting him physically, and eventually he just laid on his back, counting his breaths in and out until he was too tired to continue this tedious task.

Waking up in the morning was surprisingly easy. Kurt liked waking up. He liked the two seconds between sleep and consciousness, the two seconds where you haven't remembered anything yet and all you know is the happiness to be alive for another day.

Day of Silence was no different. Kurt woke up like normal, was happy for two seconds like normal, then remembered everything like normal.

He went about getting ready like normal too. His clothes were hanging on the doorknob of the closet just like any other day, the only difference being that he was wearing an older pair of jeans that he had vowed to burn two months ago and one of Finn's old T-shirts. He looked terrible, not at all like himself, but he wasn't about to risk designer clothes on a day like this.

Finn woke up just as Kurt finished in the bathroom. Instead of Finn's usual muffled complaints about it being "too early for my brain to work," there were just small sleepy noises. Nothing coherent as words, and Kurt was instantly touched. Finn had remembered.

The two boys made eye contact for a second, Finn's eyes traveling downward to get a look at Kurt's clothes. He grinned, giving the other a thumbs up. Kurt couldn't help but giggle, smoothing the T-shirt down and giving Finn a small wave as he headed for the stairs.

That was one unspoken agreement they had. Kurt left the room when Finn got changed. Finn normally reciprocated (unless he was sleeping, and in those cases Kurt was always careful to keep out of any possible line of sight), and it really helped down the awkward factor. Sure, both boys sometimes walked around without shirts on, but once the pants came down, one of them normally left. They hadn't reached the point where walking around in their underwear was okay.

Burt and Carole were both already awake, sitting at the kitchen table with mugs of coffee between their hands. Carole was wearing an old bathrobe that Kurt made a mental note to "replace" while Burt had already changed into his work clothes. Kurt gave the pair a small smile, then headed over to the coffee pot to pour some for himself. He sat down next to his dad, peeking over his shoulder to see what they were both looking at.

The calendar the Hummels kept on the wall next to the fridge was lying on the table between them, and they were talking quietly together, pointing out different dates. The calendar was open to July, Kurt noticed, which was weird considering it was still April.

"Morning, buddy," his dad greeted him. "Sleep okay?" Kurt answered by shrugging.

"Good morning, Kurt," Carole reached out to hold his hand for a brief second. "Burt and I were just talking about plans for your and Finn's summer vacation. We were thinking of going somewhere together for a couple days."

Kurt could have laughed at the irony. How many times had he planned this exact situation out back when he had first set up his dad with Finn's mom? And now here they were, living out almost exactly the life he had planned. But he kept quiet and just smiled politely, leaning in closer to get a better look. A couple dates had question marks on them.

"We'll talk about just where we want to go over the weekend, how's that sound?" Burt asked, pointing out all the dates he and Carole had highlighted. "When you and Finn are both talking again." He didn't sound annoyed. "You know I would have done it too, but I've got to run the garage."

Kurt waved this away, shaking his head. He knew it was impossible for his father to do Day of Silence. But he had offered, and that was enough.

Finn joined the three of them not long after, getting himself a cup of coffee as well. The two boys drank in silence while their parents talked quietly beside them, both thinking about what was going to happen later in the day. Kurt noticed that Finn's hands were tightening around his mug quite a bit this morning.

Finn drove them to school once they had both drunk their fill and gotten their daily caffeine quotient. It hadn't been Finn's idea to drive – normally that was Kurt's job – but Kurt tossed him the keys to his baby as they started for the garage. Kurt wasn't stupid; if he tried to drive today, something would probably go seriously wrong, and the last thing he needed was to crash his car.

To combat the silence, Finn switched on the radio. On any other day Kurt would have appreciated Finn keeping it at his favorite station, but today the music just sounded like noise. But rooming with Finn had taught him a lot about the other boy, one thing being that Finn couldn't stand silence. He always had to be talking or singing or listening to something. Kurt was the same for the most part, except when something like this rolled around. Then he just wanted quiet.

So he just stared blankly out the window, tuning the music out. Finn would tap the steering wheel along with whatever was playing when they were stopped at a red light, probably to help fill the silence as well. Finn was getting fidgety, a sure sign that he was nervous.

As Finn pulled into a parking space, Kurt turned back to look at him, one hand reaching out to squeeze Finn's arm. There was another brief moment of eye contact, Kurt smiling a close-mouthed, thin-lipped smile that didn't suit his face. Finn gave a short nod, and they exited the car.

The two walked into school together, just like they did every day since they had started carpooling. Finn waved goodbye when he headed over to his own locker, Kurt acknowledging this with a small wave of his own. As he continued down the hallway alone, he was suddenly very aware of just how many people were staring at him. Sure, he was wearing a shirt that was very obviously Finn's, but he hadn't expected that many people to notice this difference in his wardrobe. Kurt started wishing that Finn was still at his side; he felt safer having the taller boy around.

Whispers followed him all the way to his locker, certain words catching his attention and making him frown. A blush was creeping up his cheeks, he could tell. Whenever he got angry, he got embarrassed and flustered first.

_Just get your books out and get to class,_ Kurt told himself as he reached his locker. _The less time you spend in the hallway, the better you'll be._ He looked over his shoulder, noticing that an extremely large boy was glaring at him in a way that he really didn't like. Pretending not to notice, Kurt continued going about his business.

He looked over his shoulder again not ten seconds later, instantly noticing that this large boy now had a friend with him and that he had gotten closer. Kurt's heartbeat picked up, breath hitching. He had to get to a classroom. Right now.

"Hey Kurt."

Thank the good Lord above and all things holy for Matt Rutherford. The normally silent boy had come over to Kurt's locker, obviously having something to say. Kurt's face fell; Matt wasn't doing Day of Silence?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm gonna talk today," Matt continued, confirming Kurt's conclusion. Well, he had expected that, but he hadn't expected it to be Matt.

"Not because I don't want to do the Day of Silence thing, because I do," Matt kept talking, and Kurt raised an eyebrow, "it's just that I never talk at all. Like, ever. So I thought that instead I could start talking."

Kurt was definitely intrigued. He tilted his head slightly, adjusting his posture so he was leaning against his locker. His body language would tell Matt that he was interested.

"I just told Karofsky not to throw people in the dumpster anymore."

Well, that was certainly a brave move.

"I mean, who knows if he'll actually listen, but it saved Jacob Ben Israel a change of clothes. And I'm gonna say something if people say that Day of Silence is weird or stupid and I'll tell people to lay off if anyone starts messing with you."

And Kurt really, _really_ liked the sound of that. He nodded, a grin breaking across his face. Having Matt sticking up for the rest of them would definitely help. And Kurt had to admit, it was nice that he was doing Day of Silence his way, because Kurt definitely wouldn't have noticed a difference if Matt had been quiet all day. So he gave Matt the thumbs up, still smiling when the other walked off to his first classroom.

When Kurt looked over his shoulder again, he noticed that the two boys who had been looking at him were gone. Feeling much more confident, Kurt finished getting his books together and walked towards first period.

Class was uneventful, if Kurt was being honest. He hadn't been expecting anything to happen, but he had expected more whispering. But their teacher put on a video, giving them a question sheet they were supposed to answer as they watched. That type of class hardly made not talking a big deal. Kurt was grateful, because he didn't think he would have been able to handle a terrible day from start to finish. The start was going reasonably well so far.

His luck ran out when the period ended. Kurt put his books away, slung his bag over his shoulder, and was walking out the door when a large hand landed on his shoulder. He looked over to see who it was, stomach doing an uncomfortable flip when he recognized Karofsky.

"You're not allowed to celebrate fag day at my school, Hummel," Karofsky's grip on Kurt's shoulder tightened, his other hand closing around Kurt's arm. "Come on, let's put you in your place."

It hurt to be called a fag. Karofsky's grip on him was so tight that it was starting to hurt. But what hurt most was that he'd lost his voice. Normally he could just shrug this away, responding with a quick and witty tongue, but not today. As Karofsky turned him and started marching him down the hallway, Kurt resigned himself to spending second period inside the janitor's closet. At least he had practiced, right?

But it seemed Karofsky had other ideas. He steered Kurt over to a row of lockers, slamming him unceremoniously against one of them. "Right then, fag, time to get back inside the closet."

Bad puns made it worse.

But wait, they were nowhere near the janitor's closet. That was further down the hallway, past the home-ec room, so what was going on here? Kurt turned to look behind him just as the locker next to him clicked open.

Kurt's breath caught in his chest. They were _not_ about to shut him in a locker. Closets and dumpsters were one thing, but lockers were a completely different story. You couldn't move around in a locker. You couldn't tug your phone out of your pocket and text someone and hope they'd come and get you. Inside a locker, you're completely paralyzed, no room for movement. It was a claustrophobic's worst nightmare, and Kurt was about to be shoved right into it.

Karofsky shifted his grip on Kurt so that he had a hand pressed on the smaller boy's chest, forcing him backwards into the locker. There were people walking around in the hallway, looking at them and not doing anything about it. Kurt wanted to shout for someone to stop this, for someone to do something. Why didn't anyone stop and do something?

He was shoved into the locker roughly, his head scraping on one of the little hooks inside. He lost his footing, Karofsky's hand on his chest pressing him to the very back and keeping him upright. Kurt was convinced that he was about to be locked in here, that Karofsky's sneer was the last thing he would see until someone found him, but then – finally – a friendly voice reached his ears.

"Karofsky, what the _hell_ are you doing?"

Kurt made a mental note to get Matt a big, expensive thank you gift once the day was over.

"Get off him!" Matt and Mike came into Kurt's now limited line of sight, both of them grabbing onto Karofsky's shirt and hauling him backwards. His hand left Kurt's chest, leaving the small boy to crumple to the bottom of the locker, legs sticking awkwardly out of it. Kurt let his head drop so his chin rested on his chest, breathing deeply and evenly, trying to calm himself down.

"Leave him alone," Matt's voice was forceful. "Just get out of here, Karofsky, and leave him the fuck alone."

It was incredible how much a pissed off Matt sounded like a pissed off Puck.

A pair of hands tightened around Kurt's arms, pulling him up and out of the locker. Kurt looked up, seeing Mike's smile and giving him a small one in return. The other boy helped Kurt to his feet, one arm going around Kurt's waist and staying there until Kurt was back on his own two feet.

"You okay?" Matt asked, turning from where he was watching Karofsky walk away back to Kurt and Mike. "He didn't do anything else, did he?"

Kurt shook his head, one hand going to his chest to feel the area Karofsky had pressed against. He was certain he hadn't pushed hard enough to break anything, but he already knew there would be a bruise. Mike's eyes were trained on Kurt's hand, obviously knowing why it was there.

Matt checked his watch, saying, "We've got two minutes until class starts. Come on, Mike, we're walking Kurt to class."

It was amazing how someone who was literally always in the background could come to the front and take charge when he was needed. Kurt gave Matt a grateful smile, noticing that the boy returned it. One of Mike's hands went to Kurt's back, guiding him down the hallway. They had second period together, so Mike knew where they were going. It was kind of funny, Mike keeping a hand on Kurt's back the entire way there.

Matt said goodbye to the pair of them, and Mike let Kurt enter the room first, hand still at the other's back. Kurt could hear people laughing and he knew what this had to look like, but he didn't care. This was Mike's way of letting him know he cared, and everyone else could go shove it.

But when class started, Kurt wished for the first time that they didn't have such a scatterbrained teacher. Sure, she knew her stuff, but she never caught the kids who texted during class or threw things across the room or passed notes. And, unfortunately, that's what everyone seemed to be doing today.

It hadn't even been two minutes and Kurt felt something hit the back of his head. His hand went to the spot, touching it lightly. His fingers found a lump of a gunky… something at the base of his neck, and when he pulled this lump of whatever it was off his skin to look at it, he realized that he was back in second grade.

People were shooting spitballs at him.

He waited, knowing that more were on their way. Maybe if he slumped in his seat they wouldn't be able to hit him. Kurt was just about to test this theory when he heard someone from the back of the room whisper loudly, "Hey, fag!"

Kurt turned in his seat slowly, eyebrows knitted together and an expression that clearly said, 'Bait me and be destroyed,' on his face. But nobody was looking at him. The entire back row were all looking at someone else, and Kurt followed their gaze to see them looking at Mike.

_Oh shit._

Mike, who was completely unaware that any of this was going on, stiffened in his chair when the first spitball hit him. He turned around and got another one on his face. Kurt wanted to call across the room to him and tell him just to slouch in his seat, put his head on his desk, but he kept quiet. Mike had a deer-in-headlights look on his face, obviously completely taken aback by the spitballs.

Kurt had to admire how he handled things when he finally did come to terms with just what was going on. Mike turned in his seat, sitting perfectly straight and ignoring everything. Any time something would hit him, he would brush it off, tossing his bangs out of his face and keeping his eyes forward. He clearly wasn't about to let this get to him.

But it was getting to Kurt. Mike had done nothing wrong, and all this was happening because of him. He found himself wishing that he had been shut in that locker, just so none of this would be happening.

Unfortunately, just thinking about almost being shoved in a locker was clearly too much for him today. Kurt immediately started picturing himself shut in that small metal space, arms stuck at his sides and legs uncomfortably bent. He could practically feel the cool metal pressing in on him now, the classroom lights dimming into blackness.

His breathing picked up and Kurt forced himself to focus.

_You are not shut in a locker. You are in history class. You are sitting at your desk, and you are perfectly fine._

Unfortunately, the lecture their teacher was giving was nowhere near interesting enough to distract him from these thoughts. Kurt spent the rest of the period being unpleasantly reminded of just how close he had come to being shut in a locker, trying and failing to jerk himself out of these thoughts. It was almost worse than being shut in a locker for real, because a real locker couldn't be nearly as cold and dark and small as Kurt's imagination made it out to be.

As soon as the bell dismissed the class, Kurt ran out of the room. He made a beeline for the nearest bathroom, not even bothering to check whether it was the girls' or boys' room. It could have been the faculty bathroom for all he knew, but he didn't care.

Kurt dropped his bag in the corner on the floor, going over to one of the sinks and practically collapsing in front of it. His hands rested on the cold surface, head bent and tears dripping into the bowl as if the faucet was on.

He knew he should lock himself in a stall if he wanted a good cry. Someone was bound to walk in eventually and find him and, knowing his luck, it would be Karofsky.

That thought was enough to get him up and moving. He got a paper towel from the dispenser, wetting it and wiping his face, trying to remove the obvious tear trails. Kurt looked at his reflection in the mirror, scrutinizing his complexion and knowing it wasn't going to get much better.

_You need to get back out there and show everyone that you're stronger than this,_ he told himself, locking eyes with his reflection. _Get back out there and prove to the entire school that you can do anything. Show them all that you're better than them. You are a strong person. Don't let them win._

Kurt jumped, feeling a hand on his shoulder. He almost jerked away from the touch, but he caught Rachel's reflection in the mirror and relaxed. He turned to look at her, eyes taking in the duct tape on her mouth and the fake tattoo on her cheek. He knew what they were for, knew that Rachel had done this for Day of Silence.

It was then that he realized he was looking at the one person who might understand what he was going through. Rachel got teased all the time because of her dads, but she loved them and accepted them and never blamed them. Kurt's eyes wandered over her face, looking for some sign of understanding, of friendship.

Then she hugged him.

Kurt's arms moved on their own to embrace Rachel, his posture sagging and his cheek resting on her shoulder. He had never hugged Rachel before, unless their celebratory we-just-won-Sectionals-so-everyone-is-hugging-everyone-else hug counted. But that hug had lasted for about two seconds, nothing like this one, where Kurt felt like Rachel's arms were the only thing keeping him inside himself. Her arms were protecting him, shielding him with a friend's care.

Rachel gave him a tight squeeze before letting him go. Kurt let out a deep breath, exhaling all the air in his lungs, feeling so relieved that he could have melted onto the floor. His hardened expression was gone, replaced by a much softer one that made him feel completely relaxed. Rachel's eyes were wide and were flicking over his face, no doubt taking in his own expression and making her feel better as well.

She pulled out a notebook and wrote something down, showing it to him. _Meet me in the choir room during free period_, it said. He nodded, giving her something halfway between a grimace and a smile.

Rachel left for class, but Kurt stayed put. He went back to his spot in front of the mirror, telling himself to get back out there. The bell signaling the start of third period rang, but Kurt made no movement. He just looked at his reflection in the mirror, not focusing on himself and letting his mind wander.

As soon as his mind wandered back to the locker, Kurt knew he needed to get out of there. He needed to walk around and prove to himself that he was okay. He still had the use of all four limbs. His brain was still functioning. He was still a living human being.

So Kurt picked up his bag and started walking. He left the bathroom and walked down the hallway, not really knowing where he was going. He walked past the auditorium. He walked past the gym. He walked past Mr. Schue's Spanish classroom and Miss Pillsbury's office. He walked until he reached the end of the hallway, then he turned around and walked back.

Eventually he reached the choir room. The lights were off and the piano was pushed back against the wall. Kurt turned the lights on and wheeled the piano into the middle of the room, wanting to make it look normal. He hated seeing the choir room like that, as if nobody was using it.

He sat down at the piano, letting his bag fall to the floor again. He didn't start playing, because someone was sure to hear it and come ask him why he wasn't in class. Kurt just sat there, fingers poised above the keys, and closed his eyes, imagining that he was playing any number of his favorite songs.

After singing _Defying Gravity_ twice in his head, the pretend piano playing got boring. Kurt moved over to one of the plastic chairs instead, sitting down and curling up into a little ball. He hugged his knees so tightly that his elbows locked and it hurt, but he didn't let go. He buried his face between his legs and his chest, closing his eyes and pretending he was back in his closet.

It took about a minute for pretending to be in his safe closet to turn into a nightmare about being locked in a locker.

The tears came soon after, the sobs muffled by his own body. He was probably getting tears all over Finn's T-shirt, but for once in his life he didn't care. He didn't feel confident or sarcastic or fabulous like he usually did. He just felt sad.

When the bell rang, Kurt sniffed loudly, looking up from his knees and unlocking one arm so he could wipe at his face. He had no idea what Rachel wanted to do today, but Jesse would probably be coming with her. Kurt didn't want either one of them to walk in on him crying.

Jesse arrived first, and he sat next to Kurt and put an arm around him. It was a little weird, because while Kurt considered Jesse to be a friend, they weren't the let-s-hug-and-talk-about-our-feelings kind of friends. But then again, neither were he and Mike, and Mike had practically led him to class before.

So Kurt let himself lean into Jesse's arm, let himself look up at Jesse with his still tear-filled eyes and pretend that this was normal. Jesse looked back at him, eyes wide and sad, mouth covered by a strip of duct tape. Just like Rachel.

Who, speak of the devil, had just arrived.


	16. Kurt, part 2

_All righty, part 2 or Kurt's gigantic story. Not as long as the first part, but still pretty massive. Also, I added in my thank-you author's note at the end, if anyone cares to read it._

* * *

Rachel was the type of person who demanded the attention of everyone in the room the second she entered, even if she didn't mean to. The way she walked and the way she carried herself spoke even when no words came out of her mouth. Even on a day like today, Rachel Berry was still Rachel freaking Berry, and Kurt loved her for it.

She had a camera swinging dangerously from one wrist, almost smacking Kurt in the face when she reached the pair of them. Rachel passed him a notebook, hovering over him as he turned it so Jesse could read over his shoulder.

_We're going to do a NOH8 photoshoot!_

Kurt wasn't sure how he felt about that. He knew what the NOH8 organization was, of course, but he wasn't exactly in the right physical state – or frame of mind – to have a camera pointing at him. Any pictures he took today were going to turn out horribly, he was sure of it. But Rachel had already ripped off a piece of duct tape, passing it to Jesse once she pressed it to her jeans a few times.

Kurt tossed Rachel's notebook onto the chair next to him, turning to face Jesse and leaning forward the slightest bit, giving him wordless permission to stick the piece of duct tape to his face. Jesse was very careful with it, testing it on his hand first, probably to make sure it wasn't too sticky. When the other boy pressed it to his mouth, Kurt was taken aback by how gentle he was being. He could barely feel Jesse's fingers pressing the tape down. Kurt kept his eyes trained on Jesse's face, lost in thought about how this was the same Jesse St. James he had despised not three months ago.

When Rachel rejoined them, she held up a red pen and a black pen, obviously meaning to write 'NOH8' on Kurt's face. This was quite different from what had happened last time someone had wanted to write on his face. Rachel's hands were almost as gentle as Jesse's, the tip of the pen stroking Kurt's cheek lightly. When Rachel finished, Kurt could see the duct tape on her mouth move slightly, probably restraining a smile.

Then without warning the camera was on him. Rachel and Jesse had both left his side, and Rachel was taking his picture. Kurt wanted to tell her to stop, that this was a bad idea, that he was too embarrassed and humiliated to do this. But when Rachel Berry has an idea, you go along with it.

_Come on, you,_ Kurt told himself. _Rachel is going to take your picture whether you like it or not, so you'd better try to make these look somewhat decent!_

Vanity was what got Kurt moving along with the camera. He didn't do any poses, just adjusted his posture and his facial expressions slightly, moving the tiniest bit between each shot. If this had been a real NOH8 photoshoot with Adam Bouska in the room, he would have been hamming it up like nobody's business, sassing the camera and making witty comments once the duct tape was off his mouth.

But this was just McKinley high school. He was just Kurt, the token gay kid who wasn't talking for a day, and the people in the room with him were just Rachel and Jesse.

Rachel gave Jesse a nudge that was more like a deliberate elbow, and Jesse came over to stand next to Kurt. The two of them stayed like that for a while, Rachel taking their picture and moving from side to side to get different angles. Kurt wasn't sure what he was supposed to do and he wasn't exactly in the mood for any fun poses, but it seemed Jesse had other ideas.

Before Kurt quite knew what was going on, Jesse had an arm around him from behind, pulling him close. Kurt stiffened at first, taken aback by Jesse's half-embrace and feeling very awkward about the whole situation. Jesse was holding him like he would hold Rachel, an arm wrapped possessively around the smaller boy, holding him so close that their bodies were pressed together. While it certainly wasn't unpleasant, being held like that, it was weird when the guy holding you was doing it right in front of his girlfriend.

If it bothered Rachel, she didn't show it. She just kept taking pictures, so Kurt allowed himself to relax into Jesse's embrace. If he was being completely honest, it was very nice, being held like that. Part of him wished that it wasn't Jesse doing it, though, because Kurt knew that they would never be more than friends, and friends didn't hold each other like this.

Mixed feelings met him when Jesse let him go. Kurt knew it was wrong to want someone else's boyfriend to keep holding you, but that didn't stop him from missing the feel of Jesse's arm around him. For a second he had been able to pretend that someone did care about him in a deeper sense of the word, but now that Jesse was right in front of him again, Kurt had to go back to reality.

But Jesse wasn't done with him yet. Jesse got two more poses in before switching places with Rachel, who, Kurt could tell, was grinning underneath her duct tape. Jesse started taking pictures of the pair of them, and within a few minutes Kurt had forgotten all his worries. There was just him, the camera, and his competition for the spotlight. He and Rachel started to get cheeky with each other, holding their hands in front of the other's face right as Jesse took a picture of making silly faces at each other. It was a diva-off without the singing.

Fair was fair, though, so who was Kurt to steal all the attention? He was still a team player, so after his and Rachel's camera hogging had died down a bit, he went over to take the camera from Jesse. He held it up, an almost impatient look on his face as he waited for Jesse to go over to Rachel and take pictures with her. They were the real couple, after all.

Jesse's arms went around Rachel's waist almost automatically, holding her close to him in a more intimate embrace than the one he had shared with Kurt. It didn't bother him, because he and Jesse were just friends, but it did hurt a little, seeing how the pair of them just seemed to fit together so nicely. They really were each other's perfect match, and this showed wordlessly through their actions. Kurt wasn't surprised at all when Jesse's hand went to Rachel's neck, cupping her jaw line and lowering his face so their duct tape-covered lips were pressed together.

It was beautiful. They were beautiful. The pictures Kurt was taking of them were beautiful. Everything about Rachel Berry and Jesse St. James was beautiful, and Kurt hoped that he would find something like it one day. He wished he could tell them just how beautiful he thought they were, but he wouldn't have said anything even if he could. That was just way too sappy.

Kurt's thoughts were broken when he realized that Jesse was motioning for him to come over. Rachel held out her hand for the camera, so he gave it to her, walking over to stand next to Jesse with confusion written all over his face. He looked over at Jesse, raising one eyebrow as Jesse turned to face him.

The eyebrow fell back into place and his whole expression softened when he felt Jesse's arm around his waist.

_Jesse St. James, what the hell do you think you're doing? If this is what I think it is, then you're a bigger idiot than I thought. Your girlfriend is right there!_

Kurt watched Jesse's face get closer, feeling his own face heat up. The place on his waist where Jesse was resting his arm started to tingle. A strand of that over-gelled, wavy, gorgeous brown hair brushed against Kurt's forehead and Jesse's nose bumped his as the older boy pressed his duct tape-covered lips against Kurt's.

This was just too weird. Jesse St. James was pretending to kiss him in front of Rachel. Rachel Berry. His girlfriend Rachel Berry.

And this didn't even count as a real kiss, Kurt was sure of it. Their lips weren't even touching, but it was the closest he'd ever gotten to a real kiss with a boy. Jesse tilted his head slightly and Kurt felt the same strand of Jesse's hair tickle his forehead again. The duct tape started feeling embarrassingly thin, and Kurt was sure his entire face had to be tinged pink.

And then Jesse's free hand found his, fingers just barely entwining and Jesse pulled his hand up to their faces, setting it on his own neck. Kurt could feel Jesse's pulse beneath his fingers. His entire hand started tingling and he was suddenly unable to move it, as if Jesse would push him away if he so much as moved his thumb.

One thing was for sure: when Kurt had woken up that morning, the possibility of fake-kissing Jesse St. James would have made him laugh like a crazed donkey. There was no way this could actually be happening, but here they were. And Kurt would be flat-out lying if he hadn't enjoyed it.

When Jesse pulled away, he did it slowly. He tilted his head back to its normal position, withdrawing his arm slowly from Kurt's waist as he did so. Kurt's hand practically flew back to his side, as if keeping it too long at Jesse's neck would cause the other boy to get angry. But then Jesse's eyes crinkled and the duct tape over his mouth moved, showing that he was smiling. Kurt smiled back, marveling at how uncomfortable it was to move your face when there's a piece of duct tape in the way.

Jesse pulled him into a hug, one arm back around his waist and the other wrapping tightly around Kurt's shoulders. Kurt hugged him back, trying to ignore how he seemed to just fit in Jesse's arms. He closed his eyes, breathing in slowly and out gradually, allowing himself to simply live in the moment.

When Jesse let him go and they took a step away from each other, Kurt noticed that Rachel was gone. Panic-stricken and thinking that she had taken all of this the wrong way, Kurt bolted to the door, looking down the hallway to see her standing at the nearest water fountain. His brow creased with confusion and he felt Jesse come up behind him, no doubt also looking over at Rachel.

She turned from the fountain, amusement in her eyes at their expressions. She held up a paper towel that she had obviously just soaked under the fountain, tapping Kurt's cheek when she reached them again.

Oh. Right.

Rachel cleaned off his cheek, moving the paper towel gently across the letters. Kurt couldn't see how she was doing, but when she was satisfied she pulled out her compact and let him look in the mirror. Kurt turned his cheek, admiring the completely clean red patch on his face.

The duct tape came off his lips just as the bell rang. Kurt grinned at Rachel and Jesse, having forgotten all about the locker fiasco. He had two wonderful friends that cared about him enough to put together something like this. He could confidently say that he loved Rachel and Jesse.

Rachel bustled out of the room first, waving over her shoulder at the pair of them. Jesse, however, offered Kurt his arm, waiting patiently until the other linked his through. Wondering if this was the sort of treatment that Jesse gave Rachel every day, Kurt allowed himself to be escorted out the door, a smile planted firmly on his lips.

The smile was still there when Jesse dropped him off at Mr. Schuester's classroom. Kurt gave him a grateful look before going inside, making a beeline for his desk and sitting down quickly. He wasn't stupid; he remembered that the rest of the school wasn't going to treat him like Jesse just had, so he wanted to draw as little attention to himself as possible. He focused on the chalkboard, which was covered with writing.

Kurt didn't notice when Mr. Schuester motioned for quiet because he was too busy reading the chalkboard and trying to translate the paragraph. He was good at Spanish and knew most of their vocabulary off the top of his head, and the paragraph seemed simple enough. Besides, it seemed like Mr. Schue had lifted the words verbatim from the Day of Silence website, which Kurt had visited plenty of times recently.

It took him only a few minutes to get everything down on paper in English and only a little longer to make sure he'd gotten the correct forms of the words. Mr. Schue liked to put in little tricks sometimes, changing tenses halfway through so they wouldn't get it exactly right. It kept them on their toes, but Kurt found it really annoying.

He was the first one done, so he got up from his seat and wordlessly made his way over to Mr. Schue's desk, paper in hand. Teacher and student made eye contact for a moment, then Kurt held out his paper. Mr. Schue took it, placing it off to the side for the beginnings of a pile. There was another second of eye contact, then Mr. Schue mouthed, 'Thank you.'

Kurt just smiled, going back to his seat.

Now came the boring part. Everyone else was still working, he had over a half hour until the class as over, and he couldn't talk to anyone. Kurt chanced a glance around the room, watching as Quinn stood up to turn in her paper. Finn was flipping back and forth in his textbook, obviously looking up what seemed to be every other word. Kurt's expression softened. Finn had asked him for help with Spanish a week ago, confessing that he usually got all the different endings mixed up and only knew how to say, "Necessito chocolate caliente," which would hardly get him anywhere.

Kurt was against all forms of academic dishonesty. It was wrong and there was no excuse for it. But watching his almost-step-brother bent over his textbook, a frown on his face, and knowing that he may have been put through some serious crap today was enough for Kurt to throw all his beliefs out the window.

He pulled out his phone, careful to keep it out of Mr. Schue's line of sight, and began typing in the English translation of the paragraph. It took quite a while, seeing how he was constantly looking up to make sure Mr. Schue wasn't looking, but he managed to get the whole thing down eventually. Saving it as a message, he scrolled through his list of contacts, finding Finn's number and pressing 'send.'

Then he put his phone away. He had no intention of using it again or texting anyone else the answer. Kurt just waited, glancing over at Finn every so often, watching him as he figured out just what he had been sent.

He got one of Finn's trademark goofy grins as a thank you, to which he responded with a grin of his own and a wink. Feeling accomplished, even though he had helped Finn cheat, Kurt turned back to his own desk, tugging a book out of his backpack and starting to read. Reading was always a good distraction.

He was distracted from his reading when the entire class started yelling.

Mr. Schue ran past him and Kurt turned in his seat, noticing that Finn was up and out of his seat, standing in front of someone else's desk. Mr. Schue grabbed hold of Finn and pulled him back, and Kurt could see the boy at the other desk holding his nose. Kurt put two and two together and realized that Finn had probably punched the other guy. But why had he done that?

Kurt watched as Mr. Schue led Finn to the front of the room, eyes wide and never leaving Finn for an instant. He could tell Finn was angry by how tense he looked, by the way he squared his shoulders. Something had to have provoked him. Finn never lashed out for no reason. So what had the other boy done?

He tried to read his book once Finn had left and the talking had turned back into murmuring, but he couldn't concentrate. The classroom was buzzing with a mixture of confusion and anger, and Kurt could feel angry eyes on him. Had the other boy said something to Finn about him? Was this a repeat of what had happened with Mike and the spitballs?

Kurt never got his answer. Finn smiled at him when the passed in the hallway, obviously returning from a good trip to Figgins' office. Kurt hoped that meant he wasn't bothered by whatever had been said, because the last thing he wanted was for Finn to start getting the word 'fag' thrown at him.

He wondered about this all through his next class, making him restless. He barely paid attention to what his teacher was saying, tapping his foot impatiently for almost the entire 43 minute period. Kurt wanted it to be lunch right now, so he could ask Finn what had happened. He wanted to sit with his friends and hear about what had happened during their days so far.

As is true in almost any case, when you want time to move faster, it seems to go by even slower. Kurt started checking the clock at a regular interval of every other minute, a sigh escaping his mouth every time he noticed how little time had passed. He should feel lucky because nobody was bothering him, but even teasing made the time go by faster.

He practically leaped out of his seat and bolted for the cafeteria. He didn't even stop at his locker to grab his lunch; he didn't have very much of an appetite anyway. Tina and Artie were already at their usual table, and Kurt sat down next to Tina, already feeling much better than he had the entire day.

The rest of the glee club arrived slowly and Kurt was practically standing on his seat looking for Finn. Where had he got to? Everyone else had already arrived, even Puck, Mike, and Matt, who usually sat somewhere else with Brittany and Santana. Matt was shouting around at anyone who made a comment about them all being silent. It seemed like quite a few of their usual tormenters were missing, which Kurt was thankful for.

But where was Finn? Kurt stood up so he could see across the cafeteria, turning slowly on the spot, searching for the boy who was usually so easy to find. Kurt didn't think he would be sitting at another table, but he kept his eyes peeled anyway. When he sat back down, he noticed that Puck looked worried. He had obviously noticed Finn's absence as well.

So Kurt moved down a few seats so he was sitting between Puck and Mike, scribbling in his notebook, _Any idea where Finn is?_ He passed it and his pencil to Puck, who scrawled back, _No clue. _The two of them exchanged another worried look, then Puck stood up to scan the cafeteria again. Quinn, who was on Puck's other side, pulled the notebook in front of her and wrote something as well.

_He punched Karofsky's brother in Spanish and I don't see either one of them._ Kurt looked up at her, face now panic-stricken. He began shaking his head, refusing to believe that Finn's absence and the absence of the football team were connected.

But when Puck sat back down, saw what Quinn had written, and slammed his fist down on the table, Kurt couldn't ignore the obvious anymore. His breath started coming in short, pitiful gasps, his eyes blurring and his hands shaking.

Matt appeared out of nowhere in front of Kurt, taking hold of his hands and saying in a soft voice, "Deep breath, Kurt, come on. Deep breath."

It took him a couple tries, but Kurt obeyed this instruction, drawing in one long, shaky breath.

"That's the way," Matt squeezed his hands. "Try to calm yourself down. Count your breaths and keep doing that until your breathing regulates. Come on." Kurt tried this as well, counting in three counts, holding it for two counts, then out for three counts.

"Good man. Now, listen to me. If something's happened, you can't just run around all hysterical. You've got to have your head on straight, okay? Finn wouldn't want you to get all upset over him, I know it. Now, another deep breath," Kurt did as he was told, "and off you go."

A grateful smile was all Matt got by way of a thank you before Kurt dashed out of the cafeteria. Someone grabbed his arm and he halted, turning to see Puck's still worried face.

"You check classrooms and I'll check lockers," Puck said, adding, "Sorry. For, you know, talking," as they moved to go their separate ways. Kurt waved this away. He didn't care if the entire Glee club burst into song, as long as Finn was okay.

Kurt started running around the hallways, peeking in the doorway of every classroom that looked empty. He tested the handles once he confirmed they weren't in use, finding some locked. He went inside the unlocked ones, making a circle around the room until he was satisfied that Finn wasn't there. He wasn't entirely sure what Puck had meant when he said he'd check the lockers, but could only imagine that he had meant the locker room.

_Oh God,_ Kurt's face paled. _The locker room! Of course! Puck wanted to check there because that's probably where they are and he knows I wouldn't be any use if I actually found them._ His eyes blurred again and he slumped down in the nearest chair, tears spilling over onto his cheeks. _They've got Finn in the locker room and it's all my fault!_

Kurt didn't want to remember the last time someone had got him in there. Nothing too serious had happened, considering he'd been expecting the worst. There'd been some name-calling and they'd forced him out of his clothes, but they hadn't done anything more than a couple smacks on the bottom. Even though Kurt had wished they'd just go back to hitting him anywhere else, he knew he was lucky. There was a lot more that could have happened to him while he had his clothes off.

As he sat there crying in the classroom, Kurt found himself wishing that he had told someone about what had happened. He'd been too embarrassed to mention it to anyone, too humiliated in the knowledge that everyone in that locker room had seen him naked. And when he got the email saying, _"Don't tell anyone or your ass is all over the school website,"_ Kurt had done just what they wanted and kept his mouth shut.

_Maybe if I'd been brave enough to risk that, they'd have gotten kicked out of McKinley. They wouldn't be in the locker room with Finn._

That was enough to get him up and out the door. Puck might not have wanted him in the locker room, but Finn was his brother and there was no way he was just going to sit here crying when his brother needed help. He was going to do whatever it took to get Finn away from those idiots unharmed.

But when Kurt left the classroom and saw a completely lost and disheartened Finn Hudson right in front of him, he knew that he had already lost. Puck hadn't found him in time. Something had happened, and Kurt – even though he wasn't religious by any means – prayed to whatever god was up there that it wasn't anything like what had happened to him.

He grabbed hold of Finn's arm, but the other pulled away automatically. He turned to face the smaller boy, eyes locking onto tear-filled eyes and just staring with a blank expression on his face. Then he reached out and pulled Kurt into an unexpected, tight hug.

Finn just held him there, squeezing him so tight that Kurt's face was buried in the other's chest. He wrapped his own arms around Finn, knowing that he was the one doing the holding, even if his own breathing was being constricted by Finn's tight embrace. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut until the tears went away, running one hand up and down Finn's back soothingly, knowing how badly he had wanted someone to do that for him.

When breathing did, finally, become an issue, Kurt pulled away gently. He was reluctant to break the physical contact, knowing that it meant so much, so he reached out and took Finn's hand. He half expected the other to protest, to pull away, but Finn allowed himself to be led down the hallway. Kurt stopped at his own locker, having noticed a cut on Finn's chin. He was used to getting scrapes when the dumpster toss wasn't aimed properly, so he had everything he needed in his locker.

Neosporin, Kurt's best friend, was pulled out first, and he dabbed a bit on Finn's chin, covering the cut. He chose a band-aid with care, knowing that purple and pink weren't even considerations. He found a yellow one and placed it over the cut carefully, smoothing it from the middle outwards. That was how his mother had always done it.

Finn's arm went around his shoulders just as the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. Finn began walking down the hallway, his arm staying where it was even when other people started coming out of their classes. Finn walked like this all the way to Kurt's next class, even walking him to his seat and not leaving the room until Kurt sat down. Kurt decided not to mention that neither one of them had any of their things. Finn sat down next to him, his head immediately falling to the desk.

Kurt spent the rest of the period giving their teacher piercing glares if he looked like he was about to ask Finn to sit up. He had no idea what had happened to the other boy, but he knew that what Finn needed right now was time to himself. He didn't need to be bombarded with questions from some stupid science teacher.

He almost didn't go to his own class after science was over, wanting to stay with Finn for the rest of the day, to take him aside and hide out in the choir room so they could talk. It no longer mattered to him that it was Day of Silence. He just wanted to know what had happened and how he could help.

Mercedes found him just as he was about to turn to follow Finn, handing him his bag and slinging an arm around his waist. He let her lead him to their next class, looking over his shoulder and watching Finn go the other way.

* * *

_Okay, I've got some thanking to do! And I'm gonna do it now in case I forget later._

_Thank you, first of all, to the wonderful anonymous poster at the glee fluff meme over at livejournal who requested a story about the club doing Day of Silence. You probably never thought your prompt would turn into something this drawn-out and gigantic, but here it is. I've enjoyed writing this so much and it's all thanks to you. Hopefully it's lived up to your expectations._

_Thank you to everyone who has left me a review for this story. Your comments have been incredible. You guys keep me writing. You guys make me want to make this the best I can make it. Reading your thoughts on this story has been one of the best parts. I appreciate the feedback so much more than I could ever put in words!_

_Thank you to everyone who has told me about their own experiences doing Day of Silence. I've enjoyed hearing about your days, and some of you have opened my eyes to how wonderful and accepting some places of the world can be. I love hearing about that, because writing something like this makes me really sad. Your stories have brightened my day and made me realize just how much stories like these need to be told._

_Thank you to everyone involved in putting Day of Silence together. Thank you to Adam Bouska, founder of the NOH8 organization. Thank you to everyone involved in Broadway Impact. Thank you to the crew that worked on the National Equality March and all 200,000 plus people that showed up to march. Thank you to everyone everywhere who has ever stood up for what is right, no matter how scared you were to do it. We need more people like you out there._

_And to everyone who has this story on their alerts/favorites list and _hasn't_ reviewed... I see you. You should probably drop me a message, because you'll seriously be missing out if you don't. Y'all are getting a surprise in the last installment, but it's only for people that have reviewed. (Because I love you all and appreciate it so very much!)_


	17. Kurt, part 3

_I think I'll only need one more part after this one to finish Kurt's. So this is most likely the second-to-last chapter. Thank you all for reading, and the reviewers will get their surprise in two days!_

* * *

He wanted to get out. He wanted to leave the school, to just run outside and keep going until he was somewhere else. He didn't want to have to deal with anything else today. He just wanted to leave and finally be at peace.

That desire to escape was what got him in trouble, because he practically bolted out of the door as soon as his class with Mercedes was over, not waiting for her to come with him. He ran down the hallway, stuffing his bag in his locker and then kept running, running all the way down to the front doors.

Kurt expected someone to stop him. A teacher had to have seen him, but here he was, sitting outside on the steps of McKinley High School, and nobody else was around. He closed his eyes, tilting his head upwards to the cloudy sky, still able to feel the tiniest hint of sunlight brush his face. It was pleasantly warm out, just the tiniest bit too cold for T-shirts, typical Lima weather. He was grateful; if the weather had mirrored his feelings, it would have been too much.

He started walking. He walked out to the parking lot, remembering halfway there that Finn had his keys. But that didn't matter. He wasn't going to drive home or anything. He just wanted to be somewhere other than inside the school.

His feet kept going once he reached the outskirts of the parking lot, carrying him into the grass and over toward the elementary school next door. The playground was fenced off and nobody was outside, giving it a cold, deserted look. Kurt knew that the fence was there to keep strangers out and that nobody was there because lunchtime was over, but his brain refused to acknowledge the obvious.

He sat against the fence, leaning back and feeling the chain-links pressing into his back uncomfortably. That didn't matter, though. He felt like he was sinking back into his childhood, the fence being the only thing in his way. Maybe if he pressed hard enough, he would fall through to the other side and he could be little, eight-year-old Kurt again, the one who still wore ripped jeans and Batman T-shirts because that's what his dad always bought him.

It occurred to him then that he didn't even know what the T-shirt he was wearing looked like. It had been hanging on his closet doorknob for two days, but its appearance hadn't been taken in. So he looked down at his chest, taking in the faded grey color and the black bat-symbol emblazoned across the front.

_Of course._

One of his hands reached up into his neatly-combed hair, tangling in the brown locks and mussing it until his bangs hung into his eyes. Kurt stood up, turning to face the fence, then started climbing. Chain-link fences were easy. He'd climbed one for the first time when he had been eleven and outrunning some idiot who had sworn he was going to kill him. Kurt had scaled the fence easy, dropping down into a locked tennis court and watching while the idiot struggled to lift himself.

He dropped down into the playground, the tiniest hint of a smile breaking across his face. At first he just stood there and looked at it, remembering how he had played on the jungle gym with his friend Addie. She had moved away before middle school. Before Kurt had started getting picked on for no good reason.

Addie wasn't here anymore, and Kurt didn't want to play on the jungle gym without her. He chose a swing instead, arms wrapping around the chains holding it up and feet giving him a good kickoff.

He didn't try to go so high that he would loop around the top – which he'd always tried to do when he was younger – just swung at a decent enough height to get that soaring feeling in his stomach.

But then something collided with his back when he began to swing back down, something that definitely had not been there before. It hurt, too, and the impact sent Kurt flying from the swing, his lazy grip on the chains not enough to hold him in place. An undignified grunt escaped his lips as he landed in the woodchips on all fours.

_What the hell was that?_

He turned, still on the ground, stomach plummeting as he recognized Karofsky and his younger brother. How on earth had they gotten in here? No, better question was: how had they gotten in here without him noticing?

"Happy fag day, Hummel!" Karofsky grinned at him, clearly very proud of himself. Kurt had to bite his tongue to keep from making a retort.

_Says the person who told me earlier I wasn't allowed to celebrate._ He grit his teeth, picking himself up and brushing his shirt off.

"Aww, did you get some dirt on you?" Karofsky's brother took a step closer, his lower lip jutted out in an almost comical pout. "Let's have a look, right?"

Oh, no. No way. There was no way that Karofksy and his brother were going to do anything to him here. This was an elementary school playground, and Kurt was not about to bring this sort of thing to a place so innocent.

So he bolted again, hitting the fence at a running jump, fingers clawing at the chains as his feet scrambled to get in place. He could hear both brothers laughing and knew he must look stupid, but this was his arena. Chain link fences were his thing, and he was going to climb up and over and get away.

Or so he thought.

A hand tightened on his ankle, and though he tried to kick with his other foot, when the hand pulled, Kurt came with it. He fell back onto the woodchips, landing flat on his back and feeling two hands close around his ankles, two around his wrists. Both brothers were pinning him down, and he squeezed his eyes shut, knowing one of them was looming right above his face.

"Come on, Hummel, I said, 'let's have a look'," it was the younger of the two pinning him on top. Kurt could feel his eyes looking him over, could picture the coldness in his gaze. He turned his face, burying his cheek in the woodchips, vaguely remembering that his buried cheek had been drawn on earlier that day. It was as if he was protecting this cheek, making sure that nothing else would get written there.

"I'm disappointed," the younger Karofsky said in an almost playful voice. "You got some dirt on your shirt. Right over the bat symbol too. Mummy will be most disappointed when she sees you."

It wasn't an accident. Plenty of throwaway comments about his father were accidents, but never the ones about his mother. They knew what had happened, they knew she was dead, and it was only when they wanted to provoke him when they made these low blows.

_Don't talk about my mother._

He could feel the tears coming, but he had to open his eyes. He couldn't blink these away. Kurt opened his eyes, looking straight at the younger Karofsky, and spat in his face.

Stupid, irrational move on his part, and when he saw the other boy's expression darken, his immediate thought was, _Please don't rape me in a playground_. Both grips on him tightened, and the angry face above him said, "Don't you dare spit on me, you disgusting thing!"

"Aw, come on, don't be rude," the other Karofsky's voice came from around his ankles. "That's probably his way of telling you he likes you. 'Share bodily fluids with me,' that's probably what it means. Course, the ones he really wants come out of the other end!"

_Oh fuck, they really are going to rape me in a playground!_ Kurt started pulling against their grips, managing to get one hand free. He gave a wild swing and luckily landed a blow on the already bruised nose of the younger Karofsky, which was enough to make him grab at his face in pain, releasing Kurt's other arm.

Surprise was on his side, and he managed to kick both of his legs free, jumping at the chain-link fence again. He didn't waste time trying to get a good footing this time, he just reached upwards, legs kicking against the fence and hands clinging desperately.

"Hey, you three!"

Kurt and the Karofsky brothers all looked around at the same time, seeing a teacher at the elementary school sticking his head out the window.

"What are you doing in here? Quit climbing on the fence and come round to the door; I want to have a word with you three."

_Quick, make a decision. Get over the fence and run for it, or jump back down and make a run for the window._

Seeing how both of the Karofskys were below him and stood between him and the window, Kurt chose the former. He didn't bother to try to climb back down, he just launched himself into the air at the top, landing so heavily that he felt it all the way up his legs.

The teacher was yelling and he could hear the fence clanking as the brothers no doubt started climbing after him, but Kurt ignored that. He started running, not noticing where he was going, just running in the first direction his feet took him. He didn't look back to see if the brothers had made it over the fence, just kept his eyes forward and ran.

Kurt didn't notice when he reached the McKinley parking lot again. He didn't see all the cars or the school behind them. He was so concentrated on just getting the hell out of that playground that he forgot what was at the front of every empty parking space.

He tripped over the painted piece of concrete that marked the boundaries of the parking lot, hands automatically going out to stop his fall. He felt the skin snag on the concrete, felt one of his knees hit the ground and rip open.

But he couldn't stop now. Kurt picked himself up, feeling the grime inside the cut on his knee and forcing himself to ignore it. He set off again, much slower now, limping and feeling his knee sting more and more with each step. If he could just get back inside the school, then getting to an occupied classroom would be easy. He just had to get out of the parking lot, up the steps, through the door…

Two sets of hands tightened on his arms and Kurt knew who they belonged to without having to look. He watched as he was pulled back around the school to a door that had been left propped open, knowing it was the door to the locker room before he was dragged inside. It always happened in the locker room. Every single time.

He was slammed unceremoniously against the wall, the younger of the two pinning him there with one hand. They were obviously pissed that Kurt had managed to get away, and now he was in for it. The younger Karofsky was pressing on his collarbone so hard that it was starting to really hurt. If Kurt tried to struggle, it just made it worse.

"Bravo, Hummel," Karofsky fake-applauded. "Didn't know you had all that spirit in you. Saving it for a special occasion?" Kurt closed his eyes and let his head tilt up to the ceiling, an exasperated noise escaping his lips. He hated this part, the baiting part. This was when they tried to wind him up.

"I'm surprised you haven't exploded yet," Karfosky continued, and Kurt could feel him getting closer. "All that adrenaline has to have gotten you excited."

_Is that… his hand? On my…?_

Kurt let out a shaky gasp, opening his eyes and looking down to see Karofsky's hand right where he didn't want it. What the hell was this? Last time they had gotten him in the locker room they had drawn straws to see who would be doing the slapping. Nobody wanted to touch him, so why was Karofsky doing this to him?

"No?" Karofsky almost looked disappointed. "Not even a little?" He moved his hand slightly, making Kurt close his eyes again and bite his lip to keep quiet. This was excruciating. He would be lying if he had said he'd never imagined what it would feel like to be touched like this. Everyone wonders what it will feel like, wonders when it will happen to them, wonders if it's as good as everyone else says, wonders who will be the one with them. But nobody thinks about not wanting it. Nobody ever considers that the first time will happen when you're pinned against a dirty locker room wall and it's your daily tormenter doing it for no reason.

He had thought getting his ass slapped was bad enough, but here he was with his pants still on, with Karofsky's hand still there.

"Say thank you," Karofsky was saying, and his voice sounded like it was coming out of a haze. "Say thank you, Hummel."

A fist collided with his jaw, making his head bump against the wall. Kurt opened his eyes, looking first at the younger Karofsky and then at his older brother. He kept his eyes locked on the other's, his disgust and displeasure showing in the way his mouth was set in a thin line, the way his eyes flashed.

"That's no thank you," Karofsky, finally, took his hand away. That same hand curled into a fist, and he knocked Kurt's jaw in the same place he had just been hit. "Come on, Hummel, this is the kind of stuff you get off on. The way you paraded around in here in that stupid bathrobe, just begging someone to yank it off of you and fuck you into the wall." His lips turned up in a sneer. "And now we're here," his eyes lowered, focusing on Kurt's crotch, "and you haven't even twitched."

As hopeless as this situation might look, Kurt had to feel proud of himself. Plenty of hormone-driven teenagers would have given in by now, forgotten just what was going on and fooled themselves into pretending they liked it. But he wasn't that person. He was Kurt Hummel, and no blundering asshole was going to get any reaction out of him.

Karofsky started pacing in front of them.

"So tell me, Hummel, what exactly is it that you want us to do to you?" Kurt's entire face paled. "You should probably just tell us your sick little fantasies, because if you don't, we're gonna shove everything we can find up your ass and see which one makes you scream the loudest."

"Karofsky!"

_Oh my God, Noah Puckerman I could kiss you!_

"Oh look, Puckerman's come to save his boyfriend," Karofsky was laughing now. "You too, Rutherford?" he added as Matt came into view behind Puck. "Didn't know you swung that way too."

"Let go of him," Puck took a step forward, voice echoing around the lockers and anger clear in his eyes. If Kurt had been on the receiving end of that, he would have made a run for it there and then, no questions asked.

"Why should I?"

Apparently the Karofsky brothers were exceedingly stupid when it came to their pride.

"Because I will beat the shit out of you if you don't."

Kurt could have laughed. Puck said that like it was so normal, so everyday. That was the equivalent of a throwaway comment to him. His expression softened and the younger Karofsky's grip on him slackened.

"Us against three fags?" Karofsky obviously wasn't convinced. "I like those odds." But his younger brother clearly was, because his grip was still slackened, so Kurt tried to free himself. Almost immediately, the grip was back and the pressure on his collarbone was so intense that he was certain the bone was going to pop out of place. But Kurt was determined to see this through, to finish what he started, so he kept struggling, swinging wildly and trying to get a punch in, all the while ignoring the pressure on his chest that was slowly making it hard to breathe.

"Whoa there, Hummel," he felt another hand join the one already holding him back. "Calm down, calm down, we just want to hear your pretty voice. Tell us what's going on between you and Puckerman. If you're a good little boy, we won't take a peek like we did with Finn."

That comment was obviously too much for Puck, who made a lunge for the boy pinning Kurt against the wall. Unfortunately, the older Karofsky stood between the two, and he got Puck in the eye. Kurt almost cried out, but he bit his tongue to keep quiet. If he said something now, it would make Puck and Matt's efforts mean nothing.

It took a couple seconds, but then Puck advanced again, this time going for Karofsky. Matt took advantage of the two being occupied and came over to the younger Karofsky, pulling him off of Kurt. Kurt's eyes closed and he breathed in deeply, feeling his collarbone aching. He was going to have one hell of a bruise there, that was for sure. His breathing started coming in short, little gasps.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that Matt and Puck both had their respective Karofsky in a headlock.

"Not too bad for a bunch of fags," Karofsky's voice was a low grunt, obviously because of Puck's hold on him. Puck tightened his grip, shutting him up and getting a moan of pain in response. Kurt expected a vocal sparring match, punctuated with lots of foul language, to start, but Puck's attention was suddenly on him.

"You okay, Kurt?" he asked, using Kurt's first name for what had to be the first time. Kurt almost smiled, but his lips wouldn't move. Instead he just nodded, legs wobbling a little and feeling himself slump against the wall. That seemed to satisfy Puck, who turned his attention back on the Karofsky brothers and said, "Now, about you two. What did you do to Finn?"

Kurt wanted to leave. He didn't want to find out what had happened to Finn, especially not from the people that had done it. He wanted to pretend that the cut on Finn's chin was the only thing wrong with him, wanted to wait until the two of them were back at home before asking what had happened. But they were going to find out here and now, and Kurt felt an almost savage pleasure knowing that Puck and Matt would probably beat the two brothers senseless if they didn't like the answer.

"N-nothing, I swear!" the younger Karofsky managed to get out, stuttering because of the hold Matt had around his neck.

"Don't lie," Matt's voice sounded just as threatening as Puck's. "We know you did something."

"Hey, we gave him a choice." Kurt's eyes flashed. Were they seriously trying to defend what they had done? "We told him, we said, 'Fess up or we'll look ourselves.'"

_Oh my God, please tell me they didn't._

"And did you?" Puck's voice shook the slightest bit as he asked. It was obvious he didn't want to know the answer. Matt's uncomfortable expression said the same thing, and Kurt himself would have given anything to not find out. If the brothers had been so willing to do what they had done to him, who's to say they hadn't gone all the way with Finn?

"Yeah, we did."

Kurt hated the smirk on Karofsky's face. He wanted to slap it off, to verbally abuse the brothers until they wondered where his potty mouth had come from.

"And what did you do to him after that?" Puck pressed for more, obviously not wanting to. A small gasp escaped Kurt's lips, not out of surprise, but dread. He really didn't want to know.

"Nothing. We didn't do anything to him."

"Why?" Puck asked, obviously not buying the answer. "I know what you two have done to people before. Last time you got someone's pants off you shot spitballs at his ass. What did you do to Finn?"

Against his will, Kurt was suddenly intrigued. Who had they shot spitballs at? Why had they forced another guy out of his pants? Was there someone else at this school like him, someone who constantly looked over his shoulder and wondered if coming out had really been the best thing to do?

But no, there would be time for that later. Kurt's attention was back on the task at hand, noticing that the brothers exchanged an uncomfortable look. Had they really done something?

"We didn't do anything because we're not like you! You fags get off on seeing naked guys, and it's disgusting!"

_Says the guy who pinned me to the wall while his brother touched me,_ Kurt thought bitterly.

"So you're telling me," Puck was fighting to keep his voice under control, "that you had every intention of raping my best friend and then you figured out that it would make you gay too? Is that what you mean?"

Kurt was the only one who really knew what the next uncomfortable look meant. No, they hadn't let Finn go because they were afraid of turning gay themselves. They had let him go because he was just the warm up. They had been testing their power on him, testing the waters to see how it would go. They had been getting ready for later in the day, when they were going to get him. Puck and Matt, who didn't know what they had just saved Kurt from, didn't understand that, but Kurt was going to make sure it stayed that way.

Puck let go of Karofsky and kicked him twice, sending the boy to all fours. Then his attention was on Kurt, coming over to him and putting a supportive arm around his waist, saying, "Come here."

It was an instinctual reaction that came from all the times Puck had thrown Kurt in the dumpster. He shied away from the touch, not wanting to feel Puck's arm around him. It was too similar to all the times Puck had slung an arm around him to fool the unwitting teacher that had passed by.

"I'm not going to hurt you," Puck obviously noticed his discomfort. "And I'm not gonna talk anymore either." Kurt let himself relax and felt Puck's arm tighten around him, leading him towards the door. Matt followed them after giving the younger Karofsky a kick that landed him on the floor as well. They left the two there, not caring what happened to them.

Puck led him to the nurse's office, and Kurt didn't bother trying to protest. Normally he would just patch himself up, but Puck didn't know that. The nurse looked up as they entered, eyes immediately locking on Kurt's face. He probably already had a bruise somewhere, he was sure of it.

"Kurt got beat up," Matt started speaking, explaining what had happened. The nurse's hands flew to her mouth. "It was the two Karofsky brothers. They'll probably come in later because we got a few punches in too. I know that means we'll probably get in trouble too, but whatever. Can you fix him up?"

Puck gave Kurt a gentle nudge forward, removing his arm from around the smaller boy as the nurse stepped forward.

"You poor dear," her fingers ghosted across his face, turning his head to get a good look at what had happened. "Is it just your face?" Kurt shook his head, holding out his grazed palms and then pointing to his knee. The nurse's eyes widened, then she asked, "How did those happen?"

Kurt almost explained, but caught himself right as he opened his mouth. He turned to look at Matt, expression clearly asking for help. Matt, who obviously didn't know how Kurt had gotten those, grabbed a pencil and pad of paper from the nurse's desk and handed them over.

_I tripped in the parking lot. It's Day of Silence so I'm not talking._

"I see," the nurse put the pad of paper back on her desk. "Why don't you go sit down in the back room? I'll get you cleaned up in a second. Did either of you two get any – oh, Mr. Puckerman, look at your eye! Go with Kurt and I'll get you two fixed up."

The two boys walked into the back room, hearing the nurse ask Matt if he had any injuries as they went. Kurt sat down on one of the fold-out beds, Puck sitting next to him. Kurt had expected the other boy to sit on the bed on the other side of the room, but he had to admit it was an almost nice surprise.

The nurse came in after a few seconds, Matt following. She sent Matt to work, telling him where everything was and asking for the disinfectant and a wet cloth.

"I'll start with that knee," she said, sitting down on a roll-y stool and coming over in front of Kurt. "This will hurt, but you probably already know that. It's a pretty big cut."

Kurt hissed in pain when the nurse started dabbing at his knee. Cleaning out cuts always hurt more than the actual cuts. He watched as the nurse cleaned his knee, remembering how he had gotten a similar cut when he had gone rollerblading without kneepads. He tried to distract himself from the stinging, looking over at Matt instead, who had an apology written all over his face.

"There you go," the nurse put an overlarge band-aid over the cut. "All cleaned." Kurt managed to get out a smile to thank her.

"Mr. Rutherford, would you go tell your glee club where these two have got to?" the nurse asked, turning the stool to look at Matt. "I don't want Mr. Schuester to worry."

"Yeah," Matt gave a little nod, leaving the room.

"Rutherford, I am so going to beat the shit out of you," Karofsky's voice floated in from the front room. He and his brother had obviously both come to the nurse's office to get patched up.

"I do not tolerate that kind of language!" the nurse called through the door, voice kind but obviously meaning business. "You two just sit and wait and let Mr. Rutherford go."

A quiet, disgruntled, "Whatever," was all she got as an answer.

"Now, your turn," the nurse's attention was on Puck. "You've got a cut by your eyebrow, let me get that cleaned for you." She got a new cloth for Puck, first dabbing at it with disinfectant. Puck grimaced, but made no sound.

A noise at the door made all three of them look round, seeing Mercedes standing in the doorway.

"Miss Jones," the nurse stood up, passing the cloth she was holding to Mercedes. "Do me a favor and help Mr. Puckerman clean himself up? I have to help those two idiots out there."

Kurt could have laughed at the obvious displeasure the nurse had for this task. Mercedes took the nurse's spot on the roll-y chair, looking from one to the other and wordlessly asking for an explanation. She knew she wasn't going to get one, but that didn't stop the questioning look. She started dabbing at Puck's eyebrow as the nurse started talking to the Karofsky brothers.

"You two certainly got a number done on you," she said conversationally, making an attempt at being polite. Neither Karofsky was going to return this favor, because she got, "It's that asshole, Puckerman," as a response. The nurse sucked in her breath and made a tutting noise, warning them about language again.

"But he is!" the other Karofsky insisted. "He defended that Hummel kid!"

"Well, then he is a more admirable person than either of you two," the nurse's voice was stern and confident. "Honestly, I will never understand you children and your incessant need to pick on others, especially ones that are smaller than you. Kurt Hummel has come to see me more than once with a bump to the head or a black eye and you know what he does? He just shrugs it away, saying he slipped in the hallway or walked into a door. As far as I'm concerned, Kurt and Noah are the bigger people here. You two should be ashamed."

Kurt almost applauded. He officially loved their school nurse. That lady really knew how to lay the smackdown, and from the sound of it, she had shocked the two brothers into silence.

"I want you two out of my office. Now. Get on over to Figgins. He can clean you two up the rest of the way himself if it's that important. I've done my job."

When the nurse came back, Kurt smiled broadly at her. He knew he'd always liked her for a reason. She returned it, then came over to look at Puck's eyebrow again. "How's he doing?" she asked Mercedes, who moved out of the way. The nurse clucked her tongue, saying, "Well, it could have been a lot worse. They barely broke the skin. It shouldn't be bad enough to leave a scar, so don't worry about that."

Kurt didn't miss how Puck's face fell at this news.

"And let me take another look at you, Kurt," the nurse cupped his face gently, tilting his chin upwards so she could get a better look. "I'll give you something for that black eye you'll no doubt have in a few hours. You're lucky too; there's no broken skin at all. A little swelling and you'll have quite the mark on your chin for a while, but no permanent physical damage." Her fingers left Kurt's face and she turned to Mercedes, saying, "Thank you for checking in on them, Miss Jones."

As she left the room, she turned back around, saying, "You boys were very brave today. Now, I can't condone fighting, but Noah, what you did was truly admirable."

She left the three of them to sit there, not telling them to leave or whether they should stay. She just left them go, obviously knowing that they had more to deal with than just their physical injuries. Kurt knew it was going to take him a while before he could so much as open his locker without having a friend right next to him, never mind how long it would be until he could change for gym class without shaking.

Mr. Schuester came in after a few minutes, looking at Kurt and Puck guiltily. He sat down on the bed opposite, hands folded in his lap and obviously wanting to say something. But he kept quiet, just looking at them sadly. He obviously felt responsible. Kurt wanted to tell him that it wasn't his fault, because technically it was Kurt's fault. If he hadn't told Mr. Schuester about Day of Silence, the teacher would never have gotten the rest of the club involved.

Matt came back in after a minute or two, saying quietly, "Mr. Schue, the rest of the club is finished." Nobody gave an explanation for what they were finished with, but Mr. Schue got up to leave. He rested his hand on Kurt's shoulder for a few seconds, making eye contact with the boy until his eyes started to shine with tears. Then he left, Matt following.

Mercedes gave Kurt a little nudge, jerking her head towards the door. The three of them stood up and left the room together, Mercedes' arm going around Kurt's waist almost automatically. They didn't stop at the choir room, just kept walking until they went their separate ways in the parking lot.


	18. Kurt, The End

Kurt got into the passenger seat of Mercedes' car, leaning to rest his head on the window. The glass was cool and felt nice. Kurt felt his face vibrate with the window as Mercedes started the engine, but he didn't move. He kept his cheek pressed against the glass the whole drive, moving with the car. Mercedes didn't say anything and didn't switch on the radio. The drive was completely silent.

When they arrived at his house, Kurt got out and motioned for Mercedes to come in with him. He could tell by the lack of noise at the garage that his father was inside the house, and he hoped that he wouldn't pass him on the way in. The last thing he needed was his father going ballistic because of what had happened to his face.

He ducked behind Mercedes as they entered the house, turning his face the other way when he heard his father in the kitchen. Unfortunately, his dad must have heard the door, for he called out, "Glee end early, boys?" He obviously thought that Kurt was with Finn.

Kurt took hold of Mercedes' arm, dragging her along towards his bedroom, turning his face away from the kitchen. He heard his dad come into the room, saying, "Oh, hello Mercedes. Finn not here yet?" Kurt waved his question away, now practically running.

He had to give his dad credit, though. The man might not know how to figure out the meaning of a song and he may have a bad habit of never cleaning his fingernails properly, but he knew when his son was upset. He followed the pair of them downstairs, taking Kurt by the arm and turning him around so he could get a look at what he was hiding.

Burt took his son's face in his hands, cradling it so gently that it tickled. Kurt stared up into his dad's eyes, eyes that he had inherited, wondering what was going on in his father's head. His expression was that of a father who didn't know what to do, a father who hadn't protected his son, a father who had failed.

"Can I fix you up?" he asked, and even though the school nurse had already done more than enough for him, Kurt nodded.

He sat with Mercedes on the edge of his bed, watching his father bustle around in his bathroom. He took Mercedes' hand in his, holding it tightly and trying to ignore just how gentle his father was being when he started dabbing at his face with a washcloth. This wasn't the Burt Hummel who fixed cars and tossed Kurt a wrench whenever he needed an extra set of hands. This was a Burt Hummel who was now second-guessing everything he knew to be true.

That thought alone was enough to get him crying again. His dad grabbed a tissue and wiped his eyes for him, which made the tears come faster. He wanted to tell his dad that none of it was his fault, that he was the best father he ever could have asked for, but it was still Day of Silence. He wasn't about to quit now, not when he had gone for so long and through so much without a word.

"There," Burt said as he finished, straightening up and taking a long look at Kurt's face again. "All better." That was a lie for both of them, and Kurt could feel it. "You'll tell me everything tomorrow." It wasn't a question.

"I'll just," Burt started backing out of the room, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, "go back up. Fix you kids something to eat." Kurt gave him a small smile, watching him go.

He heard his father start yelling not two minutes later. Mercedes stiffened next to him, but Kurt stayed relaxed. He closed his eyes, limiting his senses to strengthen his hearing, trying to figure out just what was going on upstairs.

"No, no, that is no way to talk to me," his dad was saying. "Don't treat me like I'm one of your students. I know better. I have a right to know what goes on in that school of yours, and if you don't fix it, so help me, I will sue your ass until you've nothing to your name!"

A small pause, then, "Don't tell me you're handling it! If this is what you call 'handling it,' then you're the wrong man for the job, Figgins!"

_Ah, of course, he's playing the protective father role now. Bless him._

"I want those boys out of that school, do you understand?" Burt continued. "I don't want them allowed within fifty feet of the same building as Kurt for the rest of their miserable lives. I've got half a mind to go above your head and take this to the real authorities!"

It was then that Kurt realized he could never tell his father what he had been through. He'd talk about it with Finn and over time he'd probably end up telling Mercedes, but he would never tell his dad.

As his father raged on upstairs, Kurt allowed his thoughts to wander.

It was amazing how much his relationship with his father had changed this year. Burt had always been there for him no matter what, but ever since he had started being honest with himself, his father had started being honest with him. They no longer shied away from the topics they had always avoided. Kurt no longer had to make up a group of friends so his father wouldn't worry about him. Their relationship was so much more genuine now, and Kurt wouldn't wish it to be anything different.

When he had been little, just after his mom had died, his father hadn't known what to do with him. His mother had cared for him, making sure that he did his homework and was in bed on time. She had picked him up from school every afternoon, sometimes stopping at their favorite bakery for a treat if he brought a particularly impressive grade home. They curled up on the couch together every Friday and watched movie musicals and sometimes she would break out her knitting needles and teach him while they sang along.

After she died, Kurt spent his Fridays on the couch by himself. Burt would pop in sometimes and take a peek, but he never stayed for too long. He bought Kurt new clothes from the boy's section, even though girls' jeans fit him better. He started teaching Kurt how to fix cars and would always "be busy" whenever Kurt would ask to go to the craft store.

Gradually, this resistance ended. Burt would carry his basket as they walked through Jo-Ann Fabrics and even started wearing the scarf Kurt knitted him for Christmas. He sat through the entirety of _West Side Story_ and Kurt caught him humming bits of it the next day. He started letting Kurt shop for his own clothes, as long as Kurt made sure to always have a good pair of work clothes for when he needed help in the garage. They even started going to the old bakery together, where Kurt made sure to always get one of his mom's favorite scones.

It had taken them time, but father and son had eventually become just that: father and son. Their relationship had been a bit strained and awkward at times, but it was healthy enough, considering that Kurt had never told his father one of the most important things about himself. But once he did, it was like all the awkwardness went away. Burt no longer had to pretend to believe Kurt's stories about the girl he had a crush on and Kurt no longer had to hold back when he wanted to comment about just which member of the Sharks he was really looking at. Once they knocked down that wall, it was like every door on the other side had opened with it.

But Kurt still would never tell his father about what he went through at school. Never.

He knew his father still had doubts. He wasn't stupid. He knew that sometimes, when things got tough, Burt probably wished he had a straight boy for a son. It was hard, knowing that, but Kurt could live with that. But if he told his father about all the abuse he had been put through, Burt would never be able to forgive himself. He would find a way of blaming himself for all of it. It would somehow be his fault that Kurt used to take daily dumpster dives and it would be his fault that insults were thrown every which way and it would be his fault that Kurt had been sexually harassed. It would make no sense, Burt's logic, but that was the way he was. Everything that hurt Kurt was Burt's fault, because he was a father, and fathers should be there for their children no matter what.

Removing himself from these thoughts, Kurt got up off his bed, deciding that now would be a good time for some music. Burt had let him keep his mom's old record player, so he chose one of their favorites: Judy Garland. She had the voice of an angel, making Kurt's mom cry more than once. He put on the record, walking back over to his bed and sitting down again.

He motioned for Mercedes to make herself comfortable, to get settled, then he reached down and pulled out a plastic bin from under his bed. From that he pulled a blanket and a sewing kit, and he spread the blanket across his bed, a gentle smile breaking across his face as he looked at it.

His mom had taught him more than knitting. She had started embroidering this blanket herself, and after seeing her working on it, Kurt had begged her to teach him. She had given him napkins and placemats to embroider while she worked on this blanket, her masterpiece.

She had died before finishing it. She hadn't even got halfway. The incomplete work was so sad and pathetic looking that Kurt knew he had to finish it for her. It was the sort of thing he did when he wanted to remember, when he needed to relax, when he needed to calm down, when he needed his mother.

Choosing a spot, he pulled the blanket up around himself and Mercedes, leaning back so that his head rested on her shoulder as he worked on the blanket. He felt safe, knowing that his mother's finest piece of work was covering him and his best friend was sitting with him. It was the first time that day he had felt completely protected.

This coupled with Judy Garland's voice was enough for Kurt's brain to start going fuzzy. It was hard to concentrate on what he was doing, and the music lulled him into that half-awake half-asleep state where you're just conscious enough to register what's going on.

He heard familiar footsteps on the stairs and knew it was his father who had just come back down. Mercedes moved beside him, but he wasn't sure why. He didn't have the willpower to open his eyes and find out.

Kurt recognized the feel of his dad's fingers on his forehead, brushing back a lock of hair that had no doubt fallen in front of his face. The touch was light, caring, and affectionate, nothing like their usual bone-crushing hugs. When he felt his father's lips where his hand had just been, he felt his eyes prickling with tears.

He couldn't fake sleep after that. He roused himself from his semi-consciousness, looking over at Mercedes with watery eyes. She obviously thought he had just woken from a bad dream, so she put an arm around his shoulders, holding him close.

They sat like that for a while before Mercedes let him go. Even then, they just sat there, each tracing a bit of embroidery on the blanket and listening to Judy Garland singing. It was still relaxing, but now Kurt was starting to miss their usual animated, loud talks. He and Mercedes should be listening to their favorite modern music, shouting at each other over it and singing along at their favorite parts. They normally made Burt come down after ten minutes, asking them to turn down the music because he could hear it all the way out in the garage.

But today was Judy Garland and silence, and Kurt wasn't sure how much longer he could go.

The stairs creaked again, and Kurt looked up, expecting to see his father coming back down. He raised a confused eyebrow when he noticed it was Mike, carrying a plate of cookies that smelled so good that he just knew they were freshly baked.

Mike waved, looking almost embarrassed as he set the plate down on Kurt's desk. He didn't explain why he had come over or what the cookies were for. When Mike sat down on the edge of Kurt's bed, it made his heartbeat pick up a little, knowing that Mike Chang, who he had barely spoken two words to all year, cared enough about him to keep silent even after the school day was over.

The three of them just sat there in silence, each choosing a part of the blanket and tracing the stitching. Kurt watched as Mike's eyes traveled over the entire thing, no doubt trying to figure out if it was supposed to be a certain design or create a picture. Kurt let his own eyes wander, taking in the multitude of colors and realizing that he no longer remembered which parts were his and which parts were his mom's.

The record crackled as it ended, the needle clicking back into place as it stopped spinning. Kurt got up from his spot, meaning to play it again, but a hand tightened around his elbow. Looking around, he saw Mike's hand on his arm, free hand tugging an iPod out of his pocket.

Kurt gave a small smile and sat back down, watching as Mike swapped out his iPod in the sound system, finding the song he wanted and fiddling with the volume knob. When he was satisfied, he came to stand in the middle of the sparse open room that still remained. It was clear that he was about to dance for them.

Kurt tucked his knees close to his body, hugging them and resting his chin in between, eyes locked on Mike as the song started playing. He had never heard this song before, but he instantly liked it. It was different from Mike's usual style of music, much softer and slower than the hip-hop the boy obviously favored. As the song continued, Kurt realized that it was an instrumental piece.

Mike's movements were slow and fluid, each one connecting together. He was graceful, moving as someone who had training in ballet, and the way he positioned his hands made Kurt believe that he had just that. He could feel his cheeks flushing and a smile tugging at his lips. This was absolutely beautiful, and Mike had done it just for him.

When the song ended, Mike was only slightly out of breath. Kurt and Mercedes didn't applaud, but it wasn't for any lack of appreciation. Kurt didn't want to break the moment by clapping loudly, and he could tell Mercedes didn't either.

So instead he stood up, walked over to Mike, and took the boy's hand. It wasn't a handshake and he wasn't just holding the other's hand, he was showing his thanks through this small and almost insignificant physical contact. Mike looked a little embarrassed, but he didn't pull his hand away.

Mike ended up staying, even though he had clearly accomplished everything he'd intended to do. Kurt popped in _Beauty and the Beast_, and the three of them sat together on Kurt's bed with the plate of cookies in front of them. Kurt was nestled between Mercedes and Mike, marveling at how relaxed he and Mike both were, considering the situation.

All three of them got lost in the movie, laughing at Lumiere and Cogsworth's banter and gripping each other's hands whenever Gaston stormed the castle, even though they all knew it would turn out okay. Kurt and Mercedes both started crying when it looked as if the Beast had died, and Mike slung his arm around Kurt's shoulders until he had composed himself.

Burt came down during the credits, already talking as he descended the stairs.

"Hey kids, I'm thinking of just ordering pizza. Are you both staying over for dinner?" Kurt exchanged a glance with both Mercedes and Mike, nodding for them when neither seemed to be opposed. Burt smiled, saying, "One cheese and one pepperoni work for everyone?" There was more nodding, and Burt climbed back up the stairs.

It was then that Kurt realized Finn hadn't come home.

He jumped up from his spot between his friends, finding his phone and quickly texting Finn, just a short and simple, _Are you okay?_ He felt guilty for forgetting all about his almost-step-brother and what had happened to him earlier that day. Judy Garland, Mike's dancing, and old Disney movies did provide quite the distraction, especially when you really want one.

Finn hadn't responded and there was no sign of him when Burt came back downstairs and told them all the pizza was here. The three of them went up and Kurt realized that Carole was missing as well. He hoped that meant that she and Finn were both together, maybe eating out somewhere or maybe just out for a drive so they could talk.

After the pizza, Mike borrowed Kurt's computer and showed him the website for the movie the song had come from. The three of them ended up back on Kurt's bed, watching a pirated copy of the movie online. Kurt had to admit, this was the last thing he'd have expected Mike to show him. This was the sort of movie he or Rachel would have found, not someone like Mike. He decided to ask Mike about it later, once they were all talking again.

Mike and Mercedes both left his house around ten, after getting angry calls from their parents asking where they were. Both hung up on their yelling mothers and texted an answer, smirking as they did so. Kurt had a feeling both of them were going to be in trouble once they returned home, but he could tell neither one of them minded.

He set about getting ready for bed just like every other night, dressing in the bathroom in case Finn came back while he was in there. His stomach twisted when he checked the clock and realized just how late it was, and still no sign of Finn. Maybe he was staying with a friend tonight. He and Puck were on good terms again, so maybe he had gone over there to get a break from all this. Kurt couldn't say he blamed him if he had.

He put on the Judy Garland record again, turned out the lights, and crawled into bed. He would have to wait until Finn was ready. They would talk on Finn's terms, and for now he would just have to wait. He pushed everything that had happened that day out of his mind, clearing his head so thoroughly it was almost scary.

After all, Kurt was used to Day of Silence being the worst day of the year.

* * *

_As promised: the surprise. It's probably not what you all expected, but hopefully it'll make you all smile. A lot of people have told me in reviews that they don't want to see this story end and that they want to see what happens afterwards. So here's my offer: if you have already reviewed, you may give me a prompt. I'll write anything, as long as it is in the verse of this story. Ask me for Figgins expelling the Karofsky brothers. Ask me for some Finn/Kurt brotherly bonding. Ask me for some more Jesse/Kurt fluff. Ask me for whatever you like, and I will write it. I'm not ready for this story to be over either, so I might as well give you all what you want. Ask via review or PM, doesn't matter to me, but if it's an involved prompt with specifics, please do it via PM._

_Thanks for reading!_


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